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Post by Logan Shivers on Apr 11, 2018 17:49:28 GMT
Meet and greet in deep space.
Three ships clustered together, quietly floating in the void of deep space. The Necropyre, now adorned with the gory remains of its slaver cargo, and two sky blue BLA, or rather, ex BLA ships. The Corona Class frigate now renamed Cyclops, and a Sprint class medical ship. Out in the far distance, twelve sky blue Torrent class fighters ran circuits of their perimeter, ever ready to dive into action should anyone arrive to disturb this gathering uninvited.
As expected, the Slavers Girl slid out of hyper a short distance away and made her way over to the cluster of ships. Within the hour, Logan was sitting amongst friends he had not seen in years, and some that he had never met in person at all. Every soul on these ships was loyal to the core. Every one of them rescued from slavery by Logan, and then by the Bone Collectors, a group he had set up and funded. Greetings and pleasantries exchanged, the senior staff of the Collectors retired to a conference room aboard the Slavers Girl. Logan spent hours fully debriefing them all on what had occurred during and after the battle of Carlac and the situation within what was left of Pitch Black. Sen took over then to update all on what he had managed to already accomplish with regards to tracking down missing fleet assets and arranging for meetings to “recover” the stolen ships, whilst posing as a broker for a wealthy, but unnamed client. It was agreed by all that the Black Dragon had to be their priority, then they would get hold of everything else they oculd.
Hadji, who had remained silent throughout then took his opportunity to speak up.
“Before any of this is put into motion, I think it wise that Mr Shivers undertakes a full examination from me and my staff, I have no doubts as to the skill of the AMC Apothecary, his name is known and I doubt Mr Shivers would be with us now if it were not for those skills… but I have had the… opportunity… to study Trandoshan physiology rather well over the last year. I feel there are some avenues to explore that have note yet been considered.”
Logan rolled his eyes, dreading yet more time in a lab being studied and voiced his objections.
“Mr Shivers, as you sit there now, you are not in a fit state to conduct active duty as you once would have done. As I doubt very much you will be willing to take a back seat in any of the coming endeavours, I think it prudent to ensure that you are as strong as you can be when the time comes and that is my responsibility to arrange.”
A mutual agreement was sounded around the room all but Logan in agreement so he had little choice but to give this medic his wish. After all, Gene had spoken highly of him too so… what would be the harm?
“On one condition… no plans are suspended whilst I am being poked and proded like an animal.. Dr you have as long as it takes to plan for and arrive at the first “meeting” point to retrieve the Black Dragon. My recovery has delayed things far too much already, it will not be the cause of any further delay.”
Hadji nodded and got up to leave.
“Mr Shivers, I will begin preparations now, please meet me aboard the Confessors Domain as soon as you have finished with this meeting.”
And so, a couple of hours later, Logan found himself in yet another medical room being poken and proded by yet more machines and implements. His ever present droid guard had been confined to the entrance of the medical ship, and to the corridor outside this room but to Logans glee, they had not been allowed entry into the complex and high tech room.
“As I suspected, your natural rejenerative ability is being hindered by the extent of the damage. Your body has had to concentrate on repairing vital organs, which has proved difficult due to burnt tissue stopping that healing. It would appear this was spotted by the Apothecary and he cut out the burnt tissue bit by bit, to allow for your natural abilities to then begin.”
The medic went on, and Logan lost track of most of what was said until Hadji produced a set of prosthetics.
“Dr, you are not turning me into a tin can… that is not..”
Hadji put a hand up to interrupt Logan.
“I am well aware of your antithesis towards Droids, so assumed you would not take kindly towards prosthetics. However, these are not permanent. Your skeletal structure has suffeed immense damage, the bone having been super heated and then cooled got essentially cooked, making it now brittle and weak. Your system is trying to repair this but cannot as it essentially cannot get rid of the burnt bone as its structure is alien to your biology. I plan to resolve this by replacing your damaged bones with temporary implants. Your limbs will be the easiest, removing them at the shoulder and using these prosthetics. As your rejenerative abilities then kick in, slowly growing back those limbs, you will be able to change the prosthetics to fit, each time ending with more natural limb and less prosthetic. I expect this process to take roughly a year, during which time you will be as strong as you once were, if not a little more so, rather than in your current state. Your spine, luckily, appears to have either fully repaired itself, or to have avoided heavy damage, either way, it is a good thing as it enables me to use it to grow new bones in your rib cage and pelvis.”
The Doctor went on in detail about how he would essentially break Logan in order to get him fixed up again… which worried Logan.
“Dr, how long would it take for this surgery of yours to be done, and then for me to recover from it and become functional? It seems like I would be out for months… and how the hell can you know all of this with any degree of certainty?”
“I can complete the surgery in a matter of about six hours with the aid of my staff, and after that your initial recovery will be no more than two days in a tank. That will be more than enough to allow your body to knit in to the new prosthetics. From the moment you emerge from the tabk you will be stronger and more able than you are now. As for how I can know this… Having the ability to experiment on your species with no questions asked has been invaluable. We had three Trandoshan slavers that I used as test subjects to find out everything and anything I could about your species. I thought it may come in handy one day, knowing your reputation for… getting stuck into the middle of thins shall we say. Oh, and one final thing.. our engineers have already developed an armour suit to fit these new… adaptations… one I think you may like.”
He walked over to a wall panel and tapped in a code, opening it up to reveal a work of art that made Logans heart race. A suit or armour like he had never seen before. It was like staring into terror itself!! He was stunned.
“We have called it “Horror”, seems to suit it don’t you think?”` Logan walked over to the armour on display and ran his hands over it. He knew straight away that he had to have it… it was him, the armour was actually him, he could not describe it otherwise.
“Dr, get things organised. I will be talking to Lyric and Sen later tonight, after that I am all yours. Be warned… I end up a permnent tin can, I will make you into one, and I don’t have your skills, but I do have two pretty axes.”
Without another word he left the medical room, leaving Hadji behind, somewhat unsure of how seriously he ought to take that last remark.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Apr 23, 2018 19:38:30 GMT
The rise of Horror
In the southern edges of the outer rim, in a part of the galaxy travelled by few, and those typically being either daring adventurers, or pirates and denizens of the underworld, a solitary shipyard floated in thedarkness of deep space. It was a deep blue colour, as close to the inky black of space as was possible to accomplish, it showed no lights and had a high powered passive ECM system that blinded all but the most powerful sensor arrays to its presence. Although its secrecy was its most powerfull defensive measure, inside it hosted two squadrons of N-1 fighters and three Blastboats, all the same colour as the station was.
At this moment in time, in the cavernous belly of the station a Strike class cruiser was undergoing some repairs. The amount of damage the ship had taken was impressive, or rather, the fact that it had managed to get here with that amount of damage was impressive. But it would only be a matter of hours now before the work was complete, and just in time too, as a potential buyer was due to visit.
Tarlan, a stooped Devaronian stood on the viewing platform, surrounded by half a dozen security guards of his own kind. The workers in the station were all sorts of races, all slaves. The security and task masters however were all Devaronian. A walkway extended from the side of the large bay to the open hangar bay of the Strike. It was busy with coming and going droids and slaves, but all made a clear path for a group of 30 or so Trandoshan troops that were making their way to the ship, no doubt to inspect the repair work, or perhaps to just sit and await the arrival of the buyer. If the ship was ready before the buyer arrived, Tarlan was going to insist that the Strike was released from the station, he knew well enough this was a black market deal, and he also knew the reputation of the incoming buyer. What he also knew was that this lot of Trandoshans were skittish, and that was never a good thing, not when they werer armed to the teeth.
He turned and walked to his office, instructing a passing taskmaster to try and get things wrapped up sooner, rather than later. But by the time he got to his office, he knew it was too late as reports of an incoming ship started to come in to his personal communications unit on his arm. He checked out the details and was glad to see that as requested, the incoming ship was not weaponised. It was a pleasure yacht called the Slavers Girl, a ship he had heard about before, a ship that confirmed at least that it was the same Sen Cavi he had heard about in the slavery trade. His reputation made him out to be a good trader, but no longer into slavery it appeared due to a recent mishap. These things tended to happen in the line of work they were all in, but the fact he managed to bounce back with apparently little to no ill effects after the demise of the notorious Bone Collectors was what spoke most about his talent and skill. Tarlan decided that he would try to build some form of relation with the Hutt, it was always good to expand your own network after all.
“Allow the yacht to dock and arrange for a security escort to take them straight to the Strike, no detours. After their business there is concluded, extend an invitation to Mr Cavi to join me in my office.”
As he took his seat and made himself comfortable behind his desk, he stole several glances at his chief security officer, in her tight fitting outfit and smiled greedily. His race may have a reputation for cowardly males and aggressive females, but that did not mean all males were the same. He was no longer the young and powerful creature he once was, but even now, stooped and old, he commanded the respect and obedience of 40 beautiful, and deadly female Devaronian guards. Anyone of them would warm his bed at night upon his summons, and he thought that tonight it would be his chief, she was just looking particualry alluring this day.
Whilst Tarlan was contemplating that nights entertainment, ten of his guards had mustered at the docking hatch and were awaiting the incoming customers. They had arranged themselves in two rows of five, one either side of the large hatch, and stood proudly at attention in their figure hugging crimson uniforms. Each wore a holstered blaster on one hip, and a vibroblade on the other. Gold buttons ran up the double breasted jackets in three rows and adorned the cuffs. No insignia was worn by any of them. Tarlan did not believe in ranks, or in creating some sort of branded group to be recognised. No, this was HIS operation, his Chief of security was the only one with any form of rank, all the others were either security, taskmasters, or slaves. It was just simpler that way.
The hatch opened and out stepped the largest Gamorrean any of them had ever seen. He had stooped to enter and once he straightened up to his full height he loomed over them at almost twice their height. To their credit, not one of them even fluttered an eyelid. Second from the hatch emerged an equally tall, if not quite so broad Abyssin, followed by an only marginally shorter Whiphid. The three were armed to the teeth and looked like they knew the business end of a weapon. Havind evidently decided all was well, the Gamorrean signalled and a further two sentients emerged from the hatch, a Hutt, also large but that was normal for a Hutt, and a…. well, another large sentient. He was not quite as tall as the others, and did not appear to be quite as heavy set, he wore a dark brown cloak with the hood up, and a metal mask covering his face.
The Hutt was the only one to speak up.
“Greetings, I am negotiator Sen Cavi,”
He motioned towards the cloaked figure,
“This is my client who wishes to remain unknown, his three security guards, and shortly to follow, his four slaves. They will be bringing some crated goods that will form part of any deal and must not be hindered. If you are happy to concent to us as a party in full, then you may proceed and show us to the ship we are here for.”
There did not appear to be any communication between the ten security guards, however the one standing at the head of the left column took a step forward and spoke.
“Welcome aboard Negotiator Cavi, it was expected that you would bring some form of guard with you and not unreasonable. Please follow me. Please ensure that your party remains within the perimeter set by my colleagues as we travel. Most areas on this station are restricted and we take this very seriously.”
Sen nodded his consent and the entire party moved on. Two guards at the head of the group, two brought up the rear after the slaves. Three on each side then formed the remainder of the escort. As they reached the long bridge across to the ship, the guard parted and stood to either side, leaving the bridge clear.
“It has been agreed that we will not join you on the ship. We will wait here until your business is concluded, at which point you are invited to attend Chief Tarlans office.”
Sen smiled his thanks and the party of nine made their way across the bridge. Some of the guards could not help but notice just how muscle bound the four slaves were. They looked slightly out of place, like they should be armed and in a military unit rather than slaves, but none of them mentioned a thing. The nine crossed the bridge and entered the large hangar bay of the Strike where a welcoming party of Trandoshan warriors greeted them, greedy, eager smiles on their faces.
Logan wanted to rip them apart there and then. He recognised most of them, one in particular, the apparent leader, had been the head of security on the Black Dragon. Logans blood was boiling and it was all he could do to keep his temper in check. It was lucky he had the mask on, so that none of the traitors could see the murder in his eyes. It was also lucky that Sen was doing the talking.
“Greetings, I am Sen Cavi, I represent the buyer. Whilst we talk, he will take a touring inspection of the ship to ensure it is to his satisfaction.”
“Can do as he wants, so long as he has the credits to pay up.”
The leader was brusque. He was clearly not a salesman, and also appeared to be slightly nervous.
“I would not risk my reputation on somebody without funds. Let us go to discuss terms whilst the buyer is doing his inspections. If we are ready to settle once he is satisfied the ship is worth the price, things will be quicker and we can all get on with our lives eh? I am sure that you all have better things to do than hang around a shipyard in the middle of nowhere, I know I do.”
The Trandoshan lapped up the part about getting done faster, as Sen hoped he would.
“Come to Captains Stateroom, by bridge. All can sit in there and do business.”
Sen nodded his agreement and bid the Trandoshan to lead the way. Lyric went with him, the rest remained with Logan. Seing the split of numbers, the Trandoshans weighed their options, and decided that leaving five to escort the frail looking buyer and two body guards was enough. Two were left to oversee the slaves who were staying in the hangar with their sleds, and ten went with Sen and the giant Gamorrean to settle business terms.
Less than five minutes after the other parties had left the hangar, the slaves made their move. Popping open one of the crates one of them grabbed two heavy knives and expertly threw them at their two guards. It was that quick that neither Trandoshan reacted. They stood there looking at the slaves until they each sprouted a knife hilt out of one eye. Both collapsed, their bodies spasming as their brains malfunctioned and died, clearly incompatible with nine inches of steel.
No sooner had the bodies hit the ground, and the slaves were popping open all the crates. Eight contained a destroyer droid, the one held weapons and the last two held armour. With military efficiency, the destroyer droids were assembled, armour put on and weapons checked and loaded. The entire operation took ten minutes.
At about the same time, Logan, Tersen and Solan entered the lower engine bay at the rear of the ship, under the pretence of wishing to inspect the engines of course. As Logan had expected, no other sentients were in this part of the ship, as it would be uncomfortably hot, even with the powerplants at idle. The blast door slid shut behind them and Logan slipped over to the control panel. He entered his master override code and locked the doors. He was not surprised they had not reset those codes, it would take a specialist who would not only charge a fortune, but want to know why they needed to be reset, and guestions like that were not needed in such a situation. One of their escorting guards noticed him and started to run over,
“hey, no touching, the ship is not….”
He did not finish his sentence, in the blink of an eye Logan had slid his Rykk blade from its sheath under the large cloak and simply held it out infront of him, letting the running Trandoshan impale himself. At the same time Tersen fired his two ELG’s at almost point blank range at the unprotected foreheads of the two guards nearest to him. Solan punched the guard nearest him so hard it broke several bones in the reptilians head, his other hand held out his shotgun and punched a hole the size of his fist into the abdomen of the last guard.
The other reason Logan had chosen to come to this room was that it contained secondary access points to all the ship controls. He wanted to lock the ship down tight, nobody was leaving, and nobody was coming in until he decided otherwise. He was in HIS ship, and he was back in control of her.
“Lets go”
The plans were all made, it was simply a case of cary them out. The three swept the halls until they got back to the Hangar bay which they found secured. Only two unranked soldiers had come into their path and both were dead.
On meeting up with the others, phase two went into action. Logan handed over security codes to the Destroyer droids and set them off, instructions to kill all but officers which they were instructed to hold at bay and signal for assistance. Logan wanted officers alive. The four who had posed as slaves spread out along the corridors, providing support for the droids, and Tersen and Solan swept ahead of Logan as he made his way towards the bridge.
They encountered minimal resistance at first, but as the chaos began to break out around the ship, alarms started to sound. Logan silenced them, but he had intentionally allowed them to sound. He wanted the fear to start spreading, he wanted them to wonder what in the hells was going on. He turned around the last corner to the bridge to find his two companions thick in the middle of battle with at least six Trandoshans, or at least, that is how many remained. The two were back to back and giving no quarter.
The stooped, hooded figure sprang into action, all of a sudden not so stooped. Logan whipped his Rykk out and cut through the nexk of one Trandoshan cleanly, before hacking at the shoulder of another, laying him low. His blade was almost at the throat of a third when he noticed the rank insignia and he turned it, hitting him across the head with the flat of the blade. There was a terrible crunch and the officer went limp.
Blaster fire came at them from further up the corridor and was quickly answered back. Tersen pulled out a pair of ELG’s and sprayed the corridor, whilst Solan used the cover to run up like a maniac and slam into the shooter, taking off his hand with one axe whilst the other slammed into the chest of another enemy hiding behind a bulkhead. The silly fool was not wearing armour.
The three carried on up the corridor, Tersen now dragging the limp form of the officer behind him until they got into the T Junction at the entrance to the lift up to the Bridge. A Destroyer droid was stationed there on guard.
“report tin can”
“This level is clear, mimimal resistance, lift shaft is clear, guarded on each level. Mistress Cora has taken her party up and is awaiting you on deck 1 whick is currently being cleared, there is more resistance there.”
“You did not clear this deck too well, we found ten just down the corridor, tin can.”
At which point a second Destroyer appeared behind them.
“I was conducting final sweep sir, flushed them out in sector a3. You got to them first.”
To his amazement Logan thought he actually heard some irritation in the droids speech… surely the tin can was not annoyed at being beat to a kill… could they get annoyed?! He filed that for a thought on another day.
Tersen, Solan, Logan and one of the Destroyers boarded the lift and went up to the next level. The door opened to an… interesting scene. A heap of bodies, mostly Trandoshan, but one or two Barabel and one Kaleesh lay on the ground infront of them. Cora stood to the one side, leaning up agaist the wall, casually glancing down the three corridors that formed the intersection, using her knife to clear some dirt from under he fingernails. She did not even look around when the lift door hissed open. She pointed to the bodies.
“officers, all alive, gonna wake up in pain though. Other three gone to help Droids 4 and 5 who have reported one more ranking officer. Deck is otherwise clear, Droid 8 running final sweep forward, droid 2 aft.”
“Good, and deck 2?”
“all quiet, last pair of Destroyers up there, report nothing, have taken up post by lift awaiting orders.”
As she finished talking the other three Collectors who had gone off to get the officer returned, another Trandoshan dragged along behind them. All looked bloody, none seriously injured.
So far, so good. Now to storm the bridge, this should be the fun part Logan though with a bitter mind.
The body Tersen had dragged up got dumped with the others and Droids 4 and 5 were left to guard the now bound and still unconscious prisoners. Seven of them and the Droid from base level entered the lift, they were met by two more droids from level 2 and proceeded up to level 3, the bridge and Captains state room. The lift door had been locked from the outside, but Logan threw an easy override from the control panel inside the lift.
The doors hissed open, and as expected a hail of blaster fire slammed into the shields of the Destroyer droids that had been placed right by the door. The two rolled out blasting away and providing cover for the seven Collectors behind them to begin their own attack. Logan however decided to hand back and instead of using a weapon, took a different angle. He had been feeling much closer to the dark side of the force since his… accident… and although he had that under control, he had gained some benefits.. he chose to try one out. He directed a wave of horror ahead of him, ensuring that his troops were clear of it. Although he was not particularly strong in this aspect of the force, it appeared to have quite an effect!
For all caught in the wave of Logans force attack, their greatest nightmares appeared to have just come true in front of their own eyes. Some stared at their limbs in utter shock and screamed, seing who knows what, some stared wide eyed around them in clear panic and started shooting at thin air, others simply dropped their weapons and ran to cower behind whatever cover they could find. One actually wet himself and then collapsed dead on the spot, apparently quite literraly scared to death. Logan decided THAT one had seen the truth… that one had seen Logan come to rip his guts out and feed them to him!.
The rage built inside Logan and as he marched out of the lift, he had to control his rage, lest the dark side take control and then hell would truly be let loose on all. The chaos his attack had caused was enough that what little resistance was left, was overcome quickly, and the stricken enemy was either dispatched by the Collectors, or captured. The scene had only just quietened, Logan had just about got a grip on his rage again, when the door to the stateroom opened, revealing an enraged Trandoshan holding a blaster to Sen’s considerable head. Behind him, four other Trandoshans all held weapons raised at Lyric, who stood there completely uncaring. Sen smiled broadly.
“AH.. Mr Shivers, glad you could join us.”
The remaining Trandoshans lost all their colour. One actually dropped his weapon and dropped to his knees on the floor begging forgiveness and accusing everyone else for forcing him and so on.
He died first. In the stillness that had suddenly gripped the two rooms, Logan force moved over and decapitated the snivelling traitor. He could not abide weaklings. An axe appeared to sprout in one of the other Trandoshans, leaving two guarding Lyric and the leader. Lyric backhanded the one, sending him sprawling across the room and cracked the other on the head with the hilt of a dagger, sending him too into a deep darkness. Logan simply stood there, the tip of his Rykk at the throat of the last traitor, the leader. It had all taken no more than two blinks of an eye. The Collectors were a formidable force… but with Logan in their midst, they had proven unmatched.
“Yarik Harjin, I think you may owe me a GODS DAMNED EXPLANATION FOR THIS TREACHERY!!!”
The tip of the Rykk quivered as Logan trembled with barely controlled rage. The Trandoshan seemed to gather himself a little, moving his blaster to point it at Logan.
“I see you have hired yourseld a nice band of mercs brother, but you don’t learn. You see, whilst you have been aiding me by getting rid of all these fools who would have wanted a share, me and Sen here have been negotiating a price, for your head.”
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Post by Shri Bacca on May 2, 2018 22:05:34 GMT
Nice story Logan. Can’t wait to read the next part. Will Logan be able to escape this treachery?
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Post by Logan Shivers on May 28, 2018 17:04:01 GMT
The price of Logans head.
Logan stared hard at the Trandoshan who had dared call him brother, but hs stance did not change. He took a few calming breaths and his masked face turned slightly to gaze at Sen.
“That true Sen? I hope you got a good deal?”
“Oh but of course!!! I do not get my reputation by making bad deals, you should know that Logan! I got the ship, whilst our friend here gets to keep all those credits you brought to pay for her!! See? I think you will agree that is nice and clean and very much to my benefit!”
The mas turned back to the treacherous scum holding his blaster pointed at Logans face. His eyes fixed on the reptilian.
“Trust you to get the better end of a bargain Sen, you are after all the master negotiator. I would expect nothing less. Assume you forgot to mention that the amount of credits brought for this transaction was precisely zero?”
“Ah, well… that bit of information was never clarified in our deal if truth be told.”
“Wha….?”
Logan saw the instant of hesitation in the traitors eyes, the moment his misplaced confidence faltered, the split second realisation hit him like a concussion missile. In that split moment his cloak twitched, and faster than anyone could react, a mechanical arm grabbed hold of the blaster, and the hand holding it in a vice like grip.
Logans prosthetic carried on increasing the pressure until the blaster fizzed and popped and crackled with sparks of energy as it was slowly crushed. The hand holding the blaster squelched, the bones snapped loudly, and the being at the end of the had screamed in sheer agony. Nobody else moved, but Lyric blew out a gush of air in what might have been a whistle of appreciation.
“Hadji done that strong!”
Logan carried on increasing the pressure slowly, until the claw of his prosthetic clicked shut completely, eventually severing the majority of the hand it held. Logan waited patiently until the screams of agony subsided to wimpers of pain, then Logan delivered his next blow. In a snap of concentration he released a melevolant aspect of the force onto the treacherous slimebag in front of him. The result was invisible to all, but the bantha shit infront of him coulf FEEL it…
“What you are feeling coursing through your veins right now is an infection created by the force. It is incureable. I have given you just enough to cause you pain for years, before it finally eats through your miserable hide from the inside out.”
During the battle for Carlac, Logan had several encounters with the forces of Darkness and their force powered attacks. Part of that legacy, part of surviving the encounters, was the bestowed ability of Affliction. He had gained a power that few held, few could manipulate, but to him it was suddenly second nature. He could control the results and the exposure of any victim he chose. It was a nasty, horrible fate for anyone, and one Logan vowed to reserve for only the lowliest scum of the galaxy he came across.
A silence crept into the room. Sen looked down on the now crumpled heap of reptilian on the floor with a look of contempt, Lyric just smirked, and the others stood around not really sure what the next move was. The malice and barely contained rage in Logans voice had been felt by all and friends or not, they all seemed to decide against breaking the silence until perhaps he was ready. A few seconds passed and one of the droids bleeped, signalling that it had a message coming through from one of its squad. A series of bleeps, clicks and twirps ensued, followed by one final squeak.
Silence had almost crept back into the room when the mechanical voice broke through, the Destroyer droid having little sense of the thick atmosphere in the room.
“Droid 1 reports activity at the bridge. Station security is gathering in force, two are approaching the ship. Awaiting instructions.”
“Tell tin can one to carry on with its instruction to not allow entry onto the ship. Send your entire squad, including yourself to bolster that message for anyone wishing to try their luck anyway.”
Taking into account the lack of danger present in the ship, the droid concented that the largest concern to Logans safety was indeed in the hangar and so it relayed all orders and followed suit itself. With the imposing machines out of the way, there was a little bit more breathing space. The brief conversation had also lifted the mood slightly.
Sen approached Logan and took a position standing next to him, still looking down at the writhing body on the floor. “He going to be like that for long?”
“For as long as he lives… which could be years if I choose.”
Sen blew out a breath in a chortle and slapped Logan on his back.
“Remind me never to cross you my friend!”
Logans head tilted slightly in thought,
“How exactly did the idiot think I had brough credits with me?”
“Oh, well, told him one of the crates was full of datapads with encrypted access to untraceable accounts, each with 10 mil credits. Greed will do wonders to propel belief in something with a mere hint of plausibility.”
Logan shook his head.
“And remind me to never try and negotiate anything with you and expect to get a better deal out of it.”
“But that is what you have me for!”
The two of them, humours much improved, made their way to the hangar deck of the ship, passing out a few instructions en route. Lyric fell in behind them, dragging the traitors writhing form along the deck behind him.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Jun 7, 2018 19:12:05 GMT
The power of negotiation.
Tarlan sat at his over sized desk somewhat impatiently. He had summoned the visitors over an hour ago, how DARE they delay so much, this was HIS station, HE ruled here. He jabbed his finger on the intercom button on his desk and snarled at his security staff,
“If they are not in my office within the next ten…”
He did not finish the sentence as his door hissed open and the tardy visitors entered, followed by his security staff. He was somewhat ashamed to see that near twenty of his staff had accompanied just two of the visitors, a masked figure in a dark cloak, and a Hutt in somewhat finer attire.
“About time! I am not here to play whatever games you are playing in that damn ship. I let you on here to make a deal and leave, not to start killing and..”
He cut his rant short when the Hutt raised his hand in a commanding gesture.
“Sir, I would strongly recommend altering your tone. Mr Shivers here has had his temper tested once already today, not adviseable to try it again.”
“ARE YOU THREATENING ME IN MY OWN STATION?!!”
The Devaronian was livid, he was shaking all over with anger. But then Logan took a step forward, his bionic arm reached out in an eye blink and grapped one of the horns on Tarlans head and used it to slam his face down onto the desk. He thought of repeating the action but realised the old goat would most likely not take another blow without passing out.
“Sit down, be quiet and listen, nothing else is wanted of you.”
Logan was not angry at the man, he had simply been providing a service. But, the risk of providing that service to the underworld of the galaxy, was that sometimes you had to expect to get burnt. This was going to be one of those times, Logan hoped he took it stoically and did not cause a fuss. He nodded to Sen to take over the ‘conversation’.
“The ship you have in your hold is called the Black Dragon. It belongs to Pitch Black Hunting Consortium, part of the Alliance of Mercenary Consortiums. Mr Shivers here is the head of Pitch Black and has come to collect his stolen property. We have already made arrangements for her crew to be brought here and once they arrive, we shall take her out of your hold so that you may carry on with your business.”
Having recovered a bit from his heads introduction with the table, Tarlan was in no mood to be hijacked in this way. It would take more than a bloody nose to scare him, he got worse than that when he bedded his more aggressive staff…. And enjoyed it.
“That ship is not leaving my hangar until the debts are paid. My defences are already set up, any ship approaching without my express permission will be…”
He again did not finish his sentence. Logans other hand snapped out, grabbed the other horn and again, slammed the Devaronians head against the table.
“Sit down, be quiet and listen, nothing else is wanted of you.”
Tarlan raged, he jumped up to his feet, the adrenaline coursing through his body helping him to now ignore the pain much more effectively, he glared at Logan,
“You got to do better than…”
Again, he did not have time to finish his sentence. This time, Logan grabbed the edge of the desk and with one mighty heave, flipped it up, to once again hit Tarlan in the face. The table toppled, pushing the Devaronian back against his chair and forcing him to collapse onto it, table partly pinning down his legs so that he struggled to move.
“Sit down, be quiet and listen, nothing else is wanted of you.”
“WHAT THE F@(K DO I PAY YOU WHORES FOR.. DO SOMETHING!!!”
A hint of fear coloured Tarlans eyes now, not just rage, but his 20 strong guard stood there nervously shuffling their feet. Sen cleared his throat.
“The ladies will not be able to assist you in this matter. Their weapons have been removed and they have been warned of the consequences should they choose to interfere in any way. At present, they are proving to be acting in a more intelligent manner than you are.”
“You cannot do anything about my fighters, already out on patrol, about my gunships, already enforcing a perimeter, about the stations defences, already set up to…”
He flinched and stopped speaking when he saw Logan move, but this time Logan did nothing, just locked eyes with him and repeated.
“Be quiet and listen, nothing else is wanted of you.”
Sen waited a moment and carried on.
“Your defences are indeed strong. We are aware that we risk casualties in a situation where we have to battle our way out of here. But rest assured, that whilst we would suffer some losses, you would find yourself rather dead, your station in ruins and your empire of whores and slaves crushed. I cant help but think that taking into consideration the options, the loss of some credits from repairing the stolen ship would be a preferable option. But let me perhaps ease that choice. Here are the ships currently heading in this direction, due to arrive in approximately one hour.
Sen flipped a datapad to the Devaronian who caught it mid air and turned it around to study what was on screen.
The list presented to him was not long, but it was a powerfull enough combination of ships to make a point. One Corona, three Crusaders and a Dreadnaught, plus escorting fighters in the form of Toscans and Aggressors.
“Mr Shivers will allow you to access your station comms and provide one set of orders. He has decided to be gracious enough to give whatever order you choose without interruption. Once you have finished giving that order, you will find out his resulting course of action. Is that clear? You may answer without reprisal.”
Tarlan glared at both of them, not quite sure who was actually the leader and who the stooge, ut he realised he was in a bad position. They had played him very well. He nodded his head once.
Logan signalled for the security staff to move the table, and Tarlan stepped gingerly to his feet. He headed over to a wall mounted panel, the one on his desk no longer functional and opened a channel to his ships and to the shipyard gunnery suite.
“We have incoming vessels, one Corona Class, three Crusader Class and one Dreadnaught class. ETA one hour.”
He paused briefly, glaring at the two b@st@rds with hate filled eyes.
“They are coming to collect, and escort the Strike in our Hangar. Do not intercept. Keep your current patrol orbits and station gunnery suite stand down. That is all.”
He gathered what pride he had left, and still staring at them both, he gritted his teeth and snarled,
“Do me the courtesy of getting off my station as fast as you can”
Sen slapped him across the face hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor.
“you forgot to say please, I hate bad manners.”
With that, Logan and Sen walked out of the office and headed back to the Black Dragon.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Jun 13, 2018 20:33:16 GMT
Back to familiar ground.
Logan stood barefoot on the bridge of the Black Dragon. He stood proud, still in his dark cloak and mask, but no longer stooped. The treatment Hadji was continuing to provide was working wonders, and he truly felt powerful again.
The thrumming vibrations of the ships powerful engines felt so familiar through pads on his feet, he recognised the rhythm as one might recognise a particular scent on their homeworld. This was his home. This ship had been the start of it all, the start of greatness. Somewhat ironic that it too had then been the start of the troubles. But it was back under his command now, it was back where it should be. And he was going to use it to make everyone pay.
Over the past month or so, Adde had done an amazing job filtering out the remaining loyalists and re-organising Pitch Black. He had done so without anyones knowledge of Logans “undeath”. The resulting force was a mere shadow of what once was, but it was solid, and that was all Logan could ask for. From those ranks, along with many from the BLA ranks, crews had been created for Logans current battle fleet. The Black Dragon had of course required a new crew, and the two Crusaders had all needed top ups due to having either executed traitors, or had them abandon ship early on in the troubles, some stealing fighters and vehicles as they did. The Necropyre of course had its own crew, but had been over loaded so had helped man the Black Dragon. The Corona had also got its own Collectors crerw who had now formally left the BLA.
The Dreadnaught was now Adde’s main command ship, and he stood on her deck proudly, his most loyal personnel forming here officer core as well as the majority of her troop contingent. They had embarked on their journey to assist the Bone Collectors ships not knowing what lay ahead. They had ben told it was a mission that the AMC had been hired to assist with and that the rewards would be handsome. And indeed how true that had become, reaching their destination to find a ghost greeting them, Logan, scarred permanently by his encounter with the Carlac star, had shown himself to the loyal crew and told his story, and told them of what was to come.
So now, the five ships were all in hyperspace, travelling to their new destination. A destination that Sen, with his amazing network of contacts had found out about. A hoard of over fighters and their pilots, a fully manned Nebulon-B, Corona and Neutron Class frigate, four Arquittens class frigates.
A powerful fleet. A stolen fleet. Each and every one of those ships once part of the Pitch Black armada. A fleet they needed to either wipe out, or capture. A fleet that could not be allowed to continue to exist as it was an insult to both the Alliance and to Pitch Black.
But five ships, only one of them with a full fighter contingent, could not do this. It was time to bring what remained of Pitch Black together, it was time to build a new armada. And as Logan watched, the twinkling streaks of hyper travel vanished to reveal the blackness of deep space. A darkness only interrupted by the twinkling light of distant stars, and the glowing plumes of ship engines.
The chosen staging area was already a hive of activity, and Logans pride swelled as he saw just how much Adde had managed to salvage in his absence.
A host of gunboats filled his viewscreen. Pursuer Enforcement Ships, Aggressors, GAT’s, he even spotted his old trusty Tri-Mark and the DP 20a he had acquired shortly before the battle of Carlac. These were bolstered by the Cerberus, a Corona that was acting as a support and supply vessel for the masses of gunships.
With five large ships now joining the party, the fleet began to rearrange itself, each of the larger ships taking on board as many of the gunboats as they could hold, leaving the larger ones as escorts. Whilst the news of Logans survival spread like wildfire amongst the rejuvenated fleet, there was no time to celebrate. A war council was held, and a battle briefing arranged. Plans were drawn up and discussed, altered, realtered, and finalised. The Pitch Black machine, supported by the Bone Collectors intelligence information and tactical excellence, was well and truly in motion.
Less than a day after gathering, the fleet began to disperse, each leaving at an allocated time and heading to an allocated destination. Every soul onboard every ship ready to do their part to bring down the traitors, the mutineers, the cowards.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Jun 28, 2018 21:58:35 GMT
Hell Bait.
The Hellmouth slipped out of hyper and into the Binquinaros system. The crimson Dreadnaught immediately launched its full fighter contingent. Vipers formed the main attack force, whilst Cloakshapes formed a protective anti fighter and anti-torpedo grid. It was a powerful and well tested combination and with all the fighters also a dark, rich crimson in colour the pack looked the part too.
Adde stood erect on the bridge, his armour impecabble, his boots polished to a high sheen, his helmet placed neatly at his side. He had taken the ship out of hyper a touch too early. To anyone who did not know, it would look like a piloting error, but this was not the case. The exit into the system had been carefully planned. It had to be far enough to allow the enemy forces to see them, recognise the threat and react, far enough to give them time to get fully mobilised into a deadly attack, but not far enough to make it obvious that there was something wrong, that there may be a reason for the apparent mistake.
In the time span since the battle of Carlac, the Binquaros system had undergone its own troubles, leading to a new Government. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the spark to the troubles had been the uprising in the Pitch Black owned cities on Binquaros main continent. Both cities were large scale military operations and whilst they were home to civilians, almost all of them worked in some capacity to support the military function of the cities. With this being the case, when the uprising came, it was violent, bloody and on a scale that affected much more than just the two cities.
The planetary Government of course sent in their own forces to intervene and almost managed to contain the situation. But almost was not quite enough. Seing an opportunity, forces from another faction swooped in, wiped out the distracted and somewhat weakened military of the current Government and made a bid for control of the planet and the system. Kutol-Chan Industrial were ruthless and efficient in their takeover, quickly gaining the popularity of the citizens as their powerful military might, bolstered by hired mercenary forces, swept through the trouble spots and wiped out all vestiges of the brewing war. Kutol-Chan forces did not engage with the troubles within the two Pitch Black cities, choosing instead to contain them within the city limits so that they could concentrate on the greater picture. The plan had been to stabilise the planet, then come in for the kill, after all, the military bases would prove pretty hard targets. Two months after the battle of Carlac, Kutol-Chan forces swept into Acacia prime. The battle was brutal, it lasted almost three weeks and the losses on both sides were tremendous. In fact, had the city not been in a weakened state due to the revolt and able to establish a cohesive defence, it would most likely not have fallen at all.
This now left Acacia Major, and Kutol-Chan knew they had a problem. The Black Hand, as the traitors had called themselves had now taken full control of the military city. What remained of their forces from Acacia Prime had joined them, flushed out any remnant of Pitch Black loyalists and locked the city up tight. To add to the problem, a force of some 400 fighters had slowly gathered in the large airfield within the city, two Arquittens Cruisers hovered on station directly above the city, and up in geosynchronous orbit above the city, a Neutron Star class bulk cruiser floated, its powerful sensor arrays providing a security net over the city, its 30 heavy lasers a potent deterrent.
That ship was Adde’s target. He was heading in with his Dreadnaught to pulverise it with his turbolasers. The Neutron was great against gunboats and fighters, but next to useless when it came up against a ship like this. But of course, it had at least 400 fighters to call upon for support, as well as two Arq’s, so it was by no means an easy target. As Adde stared out of the large windows on the bridge, the reports started to come in of increased fighter activity coming from the planet. He waited patiently until the number hit two hundred and instructed the ship slow to half speed. When the Arquittens showed in his sensors, he ordered a full halt. When the number of fighters increased further, he instructed a full defensive formation and a slow retreat out of the gravity well of the system that they had now entered.
Any and all Kutol-Chan assets were suspicious in their absence. But the Black Hand forces, eager to pounce on the lone Dreadnaught with their mighty fighter fleet, did not notice. The Government in fact had been quite happy to make a deal with Logan, via Sen of course.
Pitch Black would come in and clean up its mess. It would rid the planet of the Black Hand and relinquish all claims to property or land on the planet. In return, Kutol-Chan would stay out of the coming battle, and then pay Pitch Black 6 million credits a year for the next decade as a “fee” for the purchase of the military city and any remaining assets within it.
The Hellmouth was now half an hour from exiting the gravity well. The first wave of fighters was only ten minutes away though. The second barely 15, and the third just over 20. The Arq’s had been quick to react and would probably enter torpedo range within 20 minutes. The Neutron was slower, not designed for speed, but it would reach them within a half hour.
Crucially, all those enemy ships were now closer to the edge of the gravity well than they were to the planet, meaning that the trap could be sprung. As if on que, the Slavers Demise, the ex BLA Corona slipped out of hyper almost ontop of the Hellmouth.
“Full ahead, full attack formation.” Barked Adde and the Vipers sprung into action, launching themselves at the first wave of oncoming fighters. The Cloakshapes followed, abandoning all pretence of defending the Hellmouth. Out of the Corona’s vast hangar poured a host of Aggressors poured out and headed at full speed towards the oncoming waves of enemy fighters.
Barely five minutes after the sudden arrival of the Corona, two dozen Blastboats made their entry and sped towards the enemy. Their proton torpedoes already in range they fired their first salvo, timed to hit the first wave of fighters at the same time as the first salvo of Concussion missiles from the Vipers.
Just as the commanders of the Black Hand fleet began to realise that something was very wrong, this was not the easy fight they thought they were entering, the trap snapped shut. From behind the planet of Binquaros emerged the Black Dragon, flanked by three Crusader Corvettes and an array of fighters and gunboats. They had arrived in the system hidden from the sensors of the Neutron Star by the mass of the planet whilst it was still in orbit. They had entered an orbital pattern that would show them to the enemy at just the right time…
And now the Black Hand fleet found themselves trapped in the gravity well of the system, with enemy fleets on all sides. There was only really one possibility. A fight to the death, and neither the Black Hand, not Pitch Black were afraid of that.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Jul 8, 2018 20:55:05 GMT
The inevitable.
Logan stood like a statue on his bridge, watching the battle unfolding in front of him. Hundreds of ships fired off lasers, protons, concusion missiles and ion cannons. If it was not such a lethal display it would only be described as beautiful. His fleet had one command, nobody escapes. Other than that, it was weapons free.
The true art to this strike however, was the attempted capture of the larger ships. It would be a waste to lose them all and Logan liked that neutron star cruiser, it had been a good buy. Whilst the battle raged on, the Black dragon and the Hellmouth pushed right into the centre of it, their targets the two arquitens and the bulk cruiser. The three Crusaders provided an anti fighter coverage for the Black Dragon, whilst the Hellmouth was more than capable of doing that on its own with 90 heavy lasers to play with. Logan knew that Adde was on the bridge of the Dreadnaught, just like he was on the Strike.
As Logan watched, a Black Hand N-1 fighter lost control and smashed into the front of the Black Dragon. The ship did not even really feel the impact, and despite the fighter breaking apart in a large fireball, it barely left a mark on the armoured hull of the cruiser.
“Weapons in range, tractor beams in range”
The announcement broke into Logans thoughts. They had reached their targets.
“Engage tractor beams, I want four on the bulk, three on each Arq. Turbolasers fire at whill, target shields and weapons only. Ion batteries concentrate on the bulk first.”
The Black Drago lit up like a firerwork, its powerful arsenal of weapons came to life, adding to the already firing heavy lasers that were keeping smaller attackers at bay. From the distance dead ahead of them, Logan could see the awesome sight of the Dreadnaught coming in, 90 heavy lasers blasting away at fighters that looked like flies around the deadly predator. It too was soon in range and its 10 turbolasers kicked into action, pounding the three enemy ships from the opposite side..
With 10 tractor beams at full operational power, the enemy ships had little to no hope of moving away, the Black Dragon had them in its clutches and was not letting go.
“Multiple protons inbound”
Ah, the sting from the arquittens cruisers. To be expected and planned for of courses.
“Concentrate heavy lasers on them, launch Sabers.”
12 Starsaber Mk I’s were sitting in the hangar, ready to launch at a moments notice. The older fighters were not much of a match to most modern fighters, but for chasing missiles and torpedoes, they were very well suited indeed. The 12 fighters jumped to their task, six squads of two, the lead to concentrate on its target whilst the wingman watched for threats. The gunners from both the Black Dragon and the Hellmouth would be helping, whilst the gunners on the three Crusaders would be ensuring that very few fighters got anywhere near the sabers.
Despite their best efforts however Logan watched two protons slam into the Hellmouth and shortly after that one hit the Black Dragon. The blast shook the ship, it completely overwhelmed the shields causing them to temporarily fail. Minor fires broke out at the impact site but were controlled quickly and the shields were back online before another strike on the ship was made. And then came the news Logan wanted to hear.
“Sir, the bulk is dead in the water, she is mostly intact, ion batteries have incapacitated her.”
Logan smiled to himself, had the crew been able to see the feral look on his face behind his mask they may have jumped back in alarm.
“Ion batteries switch target to secondary. Tell Lyric I am on the way, be ready to launch.”
With that Logan left the bridge, knowing it was in good hands, and headed to the hangar, his dark cloak swirling behind him as his bare feet slapped against the deck. By the time he entered the hangar bay four couriers were already on their way out, whilst the ATR 6 “Black Widow” stood at the ready. Logan entered and the ship was up before the door had slid shut behind him. 12 of his best were onboard, Lyric, Tersen, Cora and Solan amongst them. Four destroyer droids were also present, Logans ever present “honour guard” that he simply could not get rid of.
The boarding parties headed to the striken bulk cruiser, but with only one docking port on the entire ship, they knew this was not going to be an easy entry. The first courier helf a formidable force of six Destroyer droids, 12 MK I Assault Droids, 12 Assasin Droids and 5 elite engineers. The plan was to have the drois pour out of the docking port once it was forced open, they could then create and hold a beach head to enable the remaining ships to come and dock one by one. With each of the four couriers brinking an additional 40 troops, each successful docking made victory more and more likely.
By the time the ATR 6 docked, the corridors of the Bulk cruiser were a war zone. Logan emerged, not in his cloak and mask, but in hiw heavy battle armour, it its full spiky glory, the blood of his past victims still staining it and bone trophies from them now dangling around his neck and waist. The vision was exactly what he was aiming for, nightmarish.
Flanked by his elite, Logan began a slow jog towards the bridge, where he knew the head of the Black Hand would be. Axe in each hand, he did not even pause when he came across the enemy, he smashed into them viciously with both weapons and carried on, trusting the others to finish the job if he had not already. Small clusters of fighting were to be found at every corridor intersection, but on the whole from what he could see, the enemy was not putting up much of a fight. Logan jogged up to an intersection of four corridors and roared for his soldiers to make room. They barely had time to dive out of his way as he stormed through them, now at a dead run and plough into the barricade that the Black Hand forces had hastily built. The whole thing came tumbling down with Logan at its centre, a raging maniac waving his axes around, kicking, elbowing, punching and headbutting anything and everything that came near him. He came to a sliding halt on the deck, some 12 feet past the barricade, the enemy troops he had just smashed past stunned into momentary stillness. It was long enough for Lyric and Tersen to come crashing into the breach, their own axes slicing through opponents one after the other. Cora, not to be outdone, did an elegant flip over the battling behemoths and landed the other side of the enemy, not far from where Logan still lay prone, watching his elite do their work. She spun around and cut down two Black Hand traitors with her Force pike. The fools had not even got armour on. By the time Solan lumbered through it was all overand the remainder of the 12 had no work to do. Solan offered his powerful arm to Logan,
“Cant sleep yet boss, more to kill!”
Logan accepted the assistance back to his feet, and patted Solan on the shoulder.
“Come then my friend, lets go find more blood”
The tow began the relentless run towards the bridge, the other elite closely following behind.
The Pitch Black boarding force that had been battling the entrenched position stood in awe and shock. The mighty disp;ay of fighting prowess, or was it pure lunacy? Had lasted barely a couple of minutes, yet it had utterly decimated their entrenced foe! One of the troops was heard to comment on how he wanted one of those berserkers in his squad, none of them yet aware that the maniac in the spiked armour was their beloved leader.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Jul 17, 2018 22:49:10 GMT
Boarding parties… party on-board?
Solan and Logan trotted at a steady pace down the Neutron Star cruisers main corridor. The two large sentients, made even larger by their heavy battle armour sets all but filled the corridor and closely behind, the even larger form of Lyric tried to keep up. His giant form not really built for running, but he would not let those two have all the fun without him! All three were covered in blood, with Logan tipping the scale towards the grotesque, his spiked armour having collected chunks of flesh along the way too. All of them wielded axes, but also had blasters strapped to their thighs, just in case. But they had no plans to let any enemy be at a distance for long enough to need them.
It was not long before they reached a sealed blast door though. The elite squad gathered themselves whilst Tersen applied a substantial amount of explosives the bulkhead around the blast door. The shaped charges designed to direct the blast ahead, through the thick metal, cutting right through the door. Being a blast door, Tersen decided to use twice the amount he would normally use on a door. He would have used more, but did not have the patience to wait for the regular Pitch Black squads to catch up.
“Big bang in five”
The Elites dove for cover, not realising Tersen would use such a short fuse timer!!. Even Tersen himself had barely made it any distance when the blast went off. The noise was deafening, even through the filtered sound of their helmets. An instant of superheated white hot flame was replaced with blinding, thick black smoke that bloomed outwards to engulf them all.
As the ships air filtering kicked into overdrive to clean the polluted air, it was not long before the results could be seen. The door appeared to still be standing?! In a fit of rage Tersen ran at the door and slammed into it with all his might, cracking the thick shoulder plate of his armour. Lyric, not able to see clearly yet only saw that Tersen was running so did likewise, only spotting the door a second before hehit it, but it was long enough for him to hit squarely with his shoulder, right next to Tersen.
The door began to tilt, ever so slowly, over, the combined effort from the two mamoths just about enough to finish off the job that the explosives started. And right behind the two, desperate not to miss out, came Logan and Solan. The pair slammed into Lyricand the added impact caused the door to give way suddenly and collapse onto the deck, the four assailants landing ontop in a sprawling heap of weapons, spikes and limbs!
Cora shook her head in mock dismay.
“You boys need to learn manners, you never heard of ladies first?”
She deftly leaped over the tabgled mess and used her force pike to impale a trandoshan enemy who had come running to attack the intruders. The force of the combined impact drove the weapon in so deep she could not easily retrieve it in time to deal with the second incoming attacker, so she dropped it and grabbed the blaster at her hip. Four quick shots dealt with that little problem and she holstered it again, grasping her pike in an effort to remove the weapon.
“LOGAAN…… GET STUPID SPIKE OUT OF LEG!”
The shout stopped them all for a second, it was familiar…
“Solan.. you sound more like your father by the day.”
Logan pulled himself out of the tangle, removing the knee spike from Solans thigh. The sharp tip had gone straight through the joint in the knee of the armour suit and impaled the Abyssin warriors thickly muscled thigh. But once free, he got up without a fuss, only a slight limp and an added trickly of blood running down his armour to show for the incident. Cora ripped a bacta patch open and stuffed it unceremoniously into the small hole in the armur with her fingers and did her best to sound sultry.
“Now that you big brave boys have found your feet, can one of you kindly remove my pike from that stupid lizards chest?”
Tersen huffed and plucked the thing out, using his leg to kick at the dead Trandoshan at the same time, sending him skittering across the deck. Logan had not waited, he pushed on ahead, his relentless run towards the bridge his only concern.
Up ahead, just before the blast door protecting the bridge, a large amount of soldiers emerged out of the side rooms. They were armed to the teeth and clearly had been sitting there, waiting for the opportunity to run an ambush. They thought they had Logan outnumbered and separated from his crew. They expected Logan to slow down, or at least to falter a bit upon spotting them, but the apparition in the hellish spiked armour did the opposite, he picked up the pace to an all out sprint, using the combined weight of himself and his armour and the momentum of his attacking run to slam into the front ranks of the enemy, through them, past the second and third ranks and finally come to a halt hacking, punching and kicking, right in the middle of them! His assault had killed one and maimed three within an eye blink, and suddenly the enemy was on the back foot and trying to work out what the hell happened. In the mean time Logans left axe found another arm to sever, his right one cut deep into the shoulder of another, getting stuck in amongst the bone, tissue and armour it had parted. Logan let go of the lodged weapon and slammed his fist into the face of the next enemy he spotted, the gauntlet pulverising the unprotected face of a Sanyassan.
The remaining dozen or so enemy was just starting to recover from their surprise and were about to organise a proper attack on the menace in their midst, when Lyric came crashing in. The moving mountain tripped on a body and fell forward, the momentum carrying him forward and collecting three enemy soldiers and scatteringthem like rag dolls hit by a wrecking ball. Tersen was next, taking a high leap and landing feet first on the back of a soldier stupid enough to have turned his back to him. The Whiphid knocked the enemy to the ground and used the impact to spring himself forward and up, over the head of a more vigilant attacker and into a summersault, his axes whipping out under him to cut deep into the startled soldiers back. Tersen landed on his feet behind the stricken attacker, weapons ready for the next target. Behind him, the first enemy was struggling to get to his feet, his efforts weak due to his chest being partially crushed by the impact with the ground. The second soldier, with two matching slices cut deep into his shoulder blades, collapsed ontop of the struggler on the deck, trapping him there.
Solan, not willing to miss out despite his throbbing leg, hurled his right axe at a particularly offensive looking Duros. The weapon hit, the blade getting stuck in the chest plate of the armour, but apparently not doing any damage to the Duros. The soldier roared a battle cry and lunged for Solan. The expert warrior swapped his remaining axe into his right hand in a reverse grip. He spun on his good leg, bringing the axe around in a wide arc and slamming the blunt end into the weapon stuck in the Duros armour. The impact forced the axe through and into the Duros Chest. The soldier just stumbled a couple of steps and then stood there, stupidly looking down at his chest with a confused expression on his face. That same face that exploded under the impact of a flying mace.
The remainder of the elite had arrived, a mere ten seconds behind their leaders, and what was a pretty much one sided fight, became an out and out massacre. Less than a couple of minutes later, all 13 stood amongst bodies, retrieving weapons and checking their surroundings for any remaining enemy. The area was clear, only the door to the bridge remained.
“Anyone got something that will open that door?” “YEAH!! LYRICS HEAD”
That brought on a round of muffled chuckles from behind their helmets, and Lyric even pandered to Solans request by doing a running headbutt… to no avail, other than to put a dent in his helmet and cause the others to fall about laughing.
“Looks like we just gonna have to wait around for the regulars to come with some fireworks.”
“If we are going to be standing around for a bit boss, mind taking that thing off your head? Its distracting”
Logan turned to face the speaker, a Diathim with ornate golden armour.
“You don’t like my helmet?”
“The helmet is fine, its whats stuck to it that’s the issue.. it keeps waving around… its… well, just weird.”
As they had some time to kill, Logan removed his helmet and took a look at what was causing the soldiers irritation. What he saw only served to bring a huge grin to his still heavily scarred face. A severed arm, one from a Trandoshan as it happened, had somehow got impaled on one of the larger of his helmet spikes. The spike had gone through the elbow, up the forearm, and the tip popped out in the palm of the hand. This forced it to remain splayed open, and it did look like it was waving if you moved the helmet from side to side.
“No, I think I like it just fine!”
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Post by Logan Shivers on Jul 22, 2018 21:59:31 GMT
A game of bridge?
By the time the regulars began to arrive, having swept the rest of the ship clean, the Elites were decidedly relaxed. Lyric and Tersen were leaning up against the sealed blast door, still fully armoured and axes in hand. Cora was crouching down, her back resting against one wall of the corridor, her pike at her feet and Solan was huddled with the rest of the elite playing dice, helmets and gauntlets off, as if they were at home awaiting orders. Logan spotted the incoming troops and smiled to himself. He hefted his helmet and swung it towards the lead soldier,
“HIGH FIVE!”
The startled soldier stared at the severed arm heading his way until it slapped him in the face.
“Bah, too slow… no wonder it took you so long to get here.”
“Bbbbut tsir….”
“At ease soldier, he is joking…. Now, you got some explosives with you?”
Cora was eager to get in to the bridge before her limbs went completely stiff from the inactivity. Logan collected his helmet, arm still impaled on the spike and gave a toothy grin to the poor subject of his joke..
“Yeah, I want a matching trophy, what do you think? So… door?”
“Yes ir, ma’m.. we got Stykes, the grenadier, he can sort that door out no trouble.”
The soldier shouted out orders behind him, having recovered now from the shock of the unexpected attack from Logan. A short, stocky human appeared, his correlian powersuit covered with more repair patches than original armour, his bushy beard sticking out in all directions, making him look quite deranged.
“ye lads and lasses just step back, I’ll be getting this here door open for ye in no time at all.”
Without further comment, he pushed his way to the door and started to remove packages from a heavy belt at his waist, then even more from a backpack. He pushed Tersen out of the way, an impressive feat in itself as the Whiphid was easily twice the mans height, and weight no doubt, began placing explosives on the door and then tried to push Lyric out of the way. The Gamorrean did not move an inch.
“Ay, big feller, yer not wanting me to stick one of these on yer now are ye? Big as ye may be, promise they do more to her helmet than just that wee dent ye got there.”
Lyric looked at the short human staring up at him, from about the level of his waist and scratched his head.. or rather his helmet.
“Talk a lot for little man. You want move?”
“Lyric, get your giant ass out of his way so he can open that damn door, my face is going numb with boredom.”
Cora really just NEEDED to get in there and find somebody to fight… she needed the exercise. She had been inactive too long. Lyric nodded and moved his hulking body out of the way.
“Thak ye Mr Mountain”
Before long, the little human was done, he stood back and studied his work, then nodded with apparent satisfaction. He turned to Logan and di not so much as flinch when he found the Trandoshan looming over him, helmet back on, with decorative arm in place.
“NICE TROPHY!, I’ll be wanting me one of them too me thinks!!.. now.. yer door… see those wee black squares all around the door? They be going off one be one in a pretty little pattern. When the last wee square goes pop, that wee black triangle in the middle go boom, blast yer door far into bridge, give them a nice little surprise it will!”
“Do it.”
Logans distorted voice commanded. On hearing the command, the elite all prepared, the dice game abandoned, slouching posts abandoned, the squad was ready to get going. Behind them, the regulars were organising, ready to follow the “crazies” into the bridge and secure it, whilst the elite squad moved to the command room that was situated under the bridge, and only accessible from it.
The little human pressed a button on his wrist and the square charges started popping off one by one in a fast staccato. The explosions did not seem to be huge, more like dull thuds, but the compressive blasts that emminated from them could be felt by all. The last square charge went off and the little man yelled an incomprehensible battle cry and charged!!! He got to the door a split second after the larger triangular charge went off. The entire door lifted and flew into the bridge, just as the grenadier had promised. The little man was so close behind the door as it flew inwards, even the elites found themselves stood for a second in utter shock. When he drew out a pair of maces and began to hammer away at the first enemy he could find that had not been floored by the flying door, the rest kicked into action.
“No fair, he done that before, he practice”
Lyric was not happy at not being first in, he had planned a nice shoulder barge to get the hulk of Tersen out of his way and into Logans path, leaving him clear through the door, and that little rat had taken his glory!! Even so, he followed through with his plan, making it into the room in second place, and found himself two ugly looking Gands to play with.
The rest of the elite squad smashed their way through the room and headed straight for the lift to the lower deck. What little was left behind the rergulars would clean up, it was not their concern, they knew the leaders would be downstairs. The Command room was a large area more than a room if needed it could hold almost 100 persons. And it would appear that the enemy had decided to do just that, saving a nice big force until the very end, defending their so called leaders to the death.
The large lift doors opened and Logan ran out at the head of his squad, screaming a distorted battle cry of his own and slamming into the ranks of the enemy like a crazed demon. The elite squad was outnumbered 7 to 1, but they showed no sign of caring, gave no quarter, held nothing back. They did not appear to fight in an organised manner, no cohesion or group battle, instead most had smashed their way into the midst of the enemy and were fighting their own pitched battle with several oponents each. Two of them had paired up and were making a good show of it, one keeping the enemy at bay with dual swords, whilst the other spun and ducked around his companion, taking shots at anyone he could see with a blaster. Soon at the other end of the room, another such pair emerged, again, concentrating on taking out anyone with a blaster.
If you could take the time to study the apparent lunacy, small little things would be noticed, like Logan spinning away from his own attackers for a split second to crack the skull of an enemy that was about to sneak up behind Tersen, or Lyric hurling a body at a pair of enemy soldiers that were about to double team Cora. The warriors may have been separated, it may have seemed to others that they were simply in crazed, unorganised battle rage, but in truth, they had simply arranged themselves in such a way that they had plenty of room to fight like craed fools, but also able to keep an eye on each others blind spots at the same time.
It was, not surprisingly, one of Logans tactical gems, making the enemy think you were disorganised idiots was a great way to get them to let their guard down and assume their disciplined fighting prowess would win over.
The lift door opened, and a little human stepped out, completely ignored by the battling sentients in the room. He took stock of the room and a huge smile split his face. He nodded to himself and muttered
“Now that be some clever wee fighting, them lugs got brains so they do!”
He spotted a cluster of ten enemy soldiers gathering for an organised assault on Logan and with practiced efficiency flipped a grenade right into the middle of them. He had of course timed it to the second and it exploded just before it hit the floor, sending out its blast against their lower parts of their bodies, hitting most in the waist and legs where it would have huge immediate impact, and it was less likely to affect any of his own by blinding them. The little man followed his grenade in and started to lay waste to the injured or stunned enemy squad with his twin maces.
The entire battle took ten minutes. Ten manic, exhausting, exhilarating, vicious minutes. Ten minuts after which 13 (and a half?) sentients stood in a wide circle around five battered, bloody and defeated Black Hand leaders.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Jul 30, 2018 19:46:52 GMT
Not the end game yet.
Logan stared at the captured leaders of the Black Hand. He looked at them closely. He studied them. And then he dismissed them. Not one of them was the one he was after, the instigator, the Trandoshan Sen and Adde had jointly identified as the person responsible for the entire betrayal.
“Get them tied up and dump them in a cell, let the confessors play and lets get some more answers. Lyric? Find out whats going on our there, get us a lift out of here and get us planet side, the bastard mst be hiding there.”
“Sure boss.”
The big reptilian lumbered off, slowly punching digits into his communicator. Cora took charge of the captives, slipping into her old slaver role with ease. She was not a gentle mistress….
The battle had gone pretty well as it turned out. Minor losses were incurred by the Pitch Black forces, however they wiped out every single ship in the Black Hand flotilla. Well, apart from the Neutron star class, and one of the Arquittens. Adde had led a force onto its decks, much like Logan had and rampaged through the Cruiser. The second Cruiser had been hit by a concussion missile directly in the Proton torpedo magazine, the subsequent eruption had torn the ship apart, casting any ideas of boarding her to the winds.
On reaching the docking area of the Neutron star, he found he had to wait whilst a crew of engineers and Bridge crew clambered onboard. They had been sent to take over and fly the ship back to Prefsbelt once the ship was fully secured. It did not take long however, the docking hatch was relinquished by the transport, and Logans ATR 60, the Black Widow clamped on. Taking his helmet off first, Logan stepped through the hatch and into the Widow. He made his way to the rear and began to remove his armour, setting it on the wall mounts in place there. By the time he was done, the rest of his Bone Collectors had also boarded and were in various states of disarmament. The stench of death permiated the room. Not one of them had cleaned their armour, all were still gore splattered from the close quarters combat and none of them cared. It was a badge of honour!
Making his way to the cockpit of the ship, Logan was a little surprised to find it being co-piloted by Sen. The Hutt looked out of place crammed into the small cockpit like he was. Besides, he was supposed to be on the… well, one one of the other ships anyway, Logan was tired, he could not remember where, but he knew it was not here..
“Sen?”
“AH! Logan, I have some news, thought I should bring it to you myself. We may have to go on a bit of a trip you see!”
“Sen, spit it out, I’m tired.”
“I found brig… erm, EX Brigadier General T’dlan.”
T’dlan was once the third most senior member of Pitch Black, only reporting to Adde and Logan. He was a Trandoshan similar in stature to Logan, at around 7 foot in height and as broad as they come. He was slightly older than Logan and had earned his reputation as a steadfast leader, and a merciless killer. He was the person Logan was looking for. The chief trator, the instigator of this entire sage and the self imposed head of the Black Hand. Logans eyes lit up with rage, with expectation, anticipation… his dulled, tired brain that was on a shut down from post battle high suddenly snapped back into gear and went into overtime.
“He is on the planet?”
“No, not on this one anyway. He is on Saarn. He has taken over the military facilities there, as well as the large stadium we built. It would appear that when our cities broke into riots, it began a snowball effect, the result of which is that the New Republic have managed to take over control of the public and helped to restore order. It would appear that for his apparent “assistance” in the matter, T’dlan has been allowed to retain control of one city on the planet. Amongst his holdings are a training academy, barrackes, air base and a stadium.”
Logan was following the report right up to the mention of the stadium. The importance of that completely escaped him and it must have shown on his face.
“A stadium in which T’dlan holds barely legal duels, no holds barred battles to the death, or to incapacitation anyway.”
Logan still did not really get why that was important.
“Sen, of all the things to give a banthas ass about, T’dlan running a stinking battle arena is not one.”
“Ah, but you see it is. Because it gives us a way in. There is no way the New Republic will grant you any military presence in the system. It is too new to them and as you no doubt know, they are extremely protective of their territory. This means that T’dlan is effectively out of our reach whilst he remains on that planet. Or would be, if not for the battle arena.”
Sen went on to explain his plan, and by the end of it Logan had a big, toothy grin on his now almost healed face.
“Lets get things finished here then whilst the play is put into place. Quicker we clear this rat hole the better.”
The fleet made its way to the planet, and established itself in orbit above the target city. The GAT gunboats, the R-41’s and the Torrents began their descent into the atmosphere. The Black Widow led the prossession of ships. Once in place, they split into squads and dove down to the planet surface. The target buildings were known, the city map obviously being something that Pitch Black knew, having constructed the place. As soon as they were in range, each ship launched its payload of torpedoes or missiles and raised its nose to enter a pre-determined holding pattern above the city, making strafing runs if they spotted any hostile activity through the sheer carnage the initial attack created.
Flames leapt high into the air from the burning buildings, the smike rose thickly into the atmosphere, so thickly it blocked out the light from the sun in the surrounding areas. The thick black smoke could be seen from the high orbit position of the fleet.
The Black Widow was the last ship in the attacking armada to fly down and it did so in a leisurly pace, knowing full well that it was not needed, it was there as a witness. The pilot brough the ship lower and lower, trying to keep the city in clear view despite the smoke rising from its burning ruins.
Satisfied with what he saw, Logan spotted a clear patch of land. It had been a park, but it looked like it had been pretty much destroyed by the riots, or at least at some point between the riots and the attack they just made as it was not burning now, it had nothing there to burn.
“Drop our message there, that should do nicely. Jobs done, get Pitch Black out of this system.”
He left the cockpit and crashed out on a seat in the rear, closing his eyes for some much needed rest. Outside, all ships began their ascent to orbit and their journey out of the system. All but one.
A lone Pursuer Enforcement Ship descended and set itself into a hover right above the location Logan had pointed out. The loading bay ramp lowered and a figure appeared on it, standing there as if admiring the view. He spotted a few individuals on the ground brave enough to come out of hiding and try to see what this odd situation would bring. Satisfied that there was enough of an audience, he went back in and came out dragging two sleds behind him. He positioned them right at the edge of the ramp and upended them,
200 rotting heads tumbled to the barren plot of land below. Each one with a datacard nailed to its forehead detailing the name of the individual and the crimes committed against Pitch Black. A message that would no doubt be passed on amongst the remaining traitors.
Satisfied with a job well done, the small crew of the PES closed the ramp and headed up into orbit, following the rest of the fleet. It was more than likely the last time Pitch Black would ever set foot in the system.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Aug 2, 2018 18:45:09 GMT
A deadly duel
Deep space, somewhere near Saarn.
The Pitch Black and Bone Collectors combined fleet was drifting quitly through deep space. There wasvery little activity, although each and every ship was on high alert, ready to hit hyper at a moments notice, the fleet was otherwise at a dormant status.
Inside the Black Dragon, final preparations were being made for the forthcoming mission. Logan and Adde sat at opposite ends of a long, rectangular table, Pitch Black officers sat on one side, Collectors on the other. All seemed to have serious, but satisfied demeanours.
“So the advanced party is in place?”
“Yes sir, all Bone Collectors so they wont be recognised.”
“And the rest?”
“Four public transport shuttles are inbound to the planet, all from separate locations. All with our people onboard under various guises. One Delta shuttle is outside the city limits, hidden in the grasslands, Adde’s elite guard ready and waiting.”
“And we just rock up in two luxury yachts?”
“Sen has planned it all sir, the Stranger has been booked to fight, a rich backer wants to see him fight the Deathmatch and face the fabled T’dlan.”
The Stranger was a character the Bone Collectors had manufactured. He was used to enter such competitions in order to win money, to gain contacts, basically to infiltrate the underworld of the Galaxy. It was never the same person, many Bone Collectors had taken the role, as long as they fit roughly the right size criteria and were complete animals when it came to one on one fights. The Stranger was known for his mysterious black and red fatigues, cloak and full head mask. He also had clawed gauntlets that really did not make it clear as to the shape of his hands. In all the suit was designed to turn the eye away from any recogniseable feature and make the Stranger a forgettable vision. It was only his reputation that was not forgotten, having never lost a fight, no matter the odds. On this occasion, a wealthy “client” had instructed Sen to organise a battle between the Stranger and T’dlan. The later had developed quite a reputation in the last couple of months as an unbeatable brute and huge amounts of credits were offered to make the match. T’dlan had agreed, his greed putting aside any concerns, but he had stipulated that the Stranger must fight though the Deathmatch tournament before getting to fight the top dog. This was a poorly disguised attempt to ensure that the Stranger would be tired and past his best by the time it came for the main event. The Deathmatch involved fighting a series of opponents to the point of incapacity, or death. It consisted of five rounds in a knockout style tournament where the winner of each round progressed to fight a winner of another battle and so on, until only two remained and they battled for overall victory. This meant that the Stranger would have to do battle five times before meeting T’dlan.
“I be Stranger”
“Lyric… the Stranger is big, but he is not a mountain… no, Sen arranged for….”
Logan stood, cutting off the pleasant tone of Cora’s voice.
“Sen organised all, but I fight, no conversation.”
The tone he used ensured nobody bothered to try and argue, they already knew it would be fruitless.
“When to leave?”
Lyric took the chance to change subject and move matters on. Cora took up from his que.
“The Deathmatch tournament is due to start tomorrow night, our two yachts are here and waiting, we can head off anytime, hotel rooms are booked in the city. The crew and all going are Bone Collectors. The GR 75 is also ready, that is scheduled to arrive in system in 22 hours so Adde, sir, you need to get that thing moving soon.”
The Gallo was scheduled to arrive in the system under the guise of a heavy hauler coming in to pick up a shipment of Vertex ore from a mine just outside the city proper, about 14 miles from the stadium where this whole thing was taking place. Inside however were 500 fully armed Pitch Black troops. They would sit tight until required, at which point they would pour out in their jailspeeders and head towards the city like an invasion force. The ship would also then be used to get all off the planet, before the New Republic had time to act on any information they received about a disturbance on their planet.
They all knew their place, the plans were set, so it was time to get going.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Aug 2, 2018 20:43:22 GMT
A Deadly Duel part 2
Saarn, Black Hand Stadium.
Logan had stood watching the duels whilst he waited for his first round. He stood ringside, his 7 foot tall, muscular frame back to its former glory, with the exception of just his left hand, still regrowing from the wrist. It had already grown down from his shoulder, the size of the required prosthetic decreasing by the week, until now. He had chosen to remove the prosthetic pncers, in favour of a fixed 9 inch blade, wickedly sharp and slightly curved. A Studded cross guard both protected his stump, and made for a brutal mace if used in a sidewards swiping motion.
Otherwise, he was kitted out in the garb of the Stranger. Covered from head to toe in the mottled black and red fatigues, light body armour on his chest, also following the same colour scheme, and of course the full head mask. He had decided to have a row of short spikes fitted to that, running in neat line from his forehead backwards until they reached the nape of his neck. The tips glinted menacingly in the spotlights that flickered about the stadium, trying to add even more tension to the place.
His other chosen weapon was his trusted Ryyk. Pretty much the only rules for this so called tournament were no projectile weapons of any kind, and only two weapons per combatant. The loosers weapons from each round were also left scattered where they fell and those were fair game for anyone should they wish to use them.
By the time it was the Strangers turn to battle, a battle axe, two knives, two vibroblades and a spiked steel staff were already scattered around the large battle arena. The area had once been a shockball pitch, so it took up the entire floor of the arena, with crowds using the stands for the purpose they were intended, just not for shockball! Food stalls and various drinks vendors sold their wares all around.
The combatants would start at either end of the field, they would then charge in to try and get a battle ground of their choosing before meeting their opponent. The field was not flat, it had ramps and steps to platforms up high, tunnels, tightropes and bizzare structures to help or hinder. The entire thing was of glassteel so that the spectators views were as unaffected as possible, but huge hollo screens at either end of the field also captured the battles.
The horn sounded the signalled the start of Logans battle. He entered a gentle canter and headed right into the middle of the field, heading for his opponent. Logan was not fussed about where they would meet, he was confident and the Scorekeeper was with him, he could feel it. The opponent, a lithe Chiss female with a pair of vibroaxes, dodged and weaved, heading in this direction or that, but Logan, the Stranger just headed straight on until he hit the middle of the arena. He then mirrored the movement of the Chiss and allowed her to lure him to her chosen spot to battle. One of the odd structures with thin glassteel poles sprouting up at all sorts of angles in all shapes and sizes. It was clearly designed to give an agile combatant an edge over a larger, cumbersome one and in that, the Chiss thought she had picked her ground well.
Until she made her first attack. The Stranger had slowly entered the area, avoiding the needle sharp protrusions from said structure which he had not noticed before. He stood still once he was happy with a spot, and waited. It was not long before she took her chance, and dove in at him, axes whirring and flashing, their familiar soft buzz confirming that they were charged and working just fine. But far from being slow, the Stranger snapped into action so fast, the Chiss did not really recognise her error until it was far too late. His blade hand lashed out sideways to hit one axe in a shrieking, sparking collision, whilst his Ryyk sliced diagonally out to sever her other arm at the elbow. A kick to her stomach sent her sprawling backwards to be impaled on a spiked part of the structure she had chosen to battle in.
The stranger calmly walked out of the structure and to his end of the arena to stand and await his next bout. The fight had been boring, the crowd jeered and booed but he did not care. This was about getting to T’dlan, as quickly and efficiently as he could.
His second fight was not much more interesting, an overgrown Duros who could barely move faster than a crawl. He wielded two battle axes, formidable, but only if he could actually hit you with them. Logan simply skipped past his wild swing, leaped over the second, low cutting one, and cracked his opponents head in two with the Ryyk.
The crown had liked that one a bit more, but it was still too short, their blood lust was not being fed. The Stranger still could not care less.
In the third round, he went up against a Whiphid. That was a much more challenging battle, but the whiphid was not experienced enough, and did not fight aggressively enough. It ended up being battered into unconsciousness. The contestant may not have died, but the battle had entertained the croud much more and they now started to cheer for the Stranger, instead of jeer.
The next round brought with it a mace wielding Abyssinian. He had proved to be a formidable foe, had completely destroyed all his opponents and was the crowds clear favourite. He was clearly a veteran to this game, his large eye was keen, his reflexes fast, his skills honed.
But the Stranger had a trump card. Well, two as it turned out. He had knowledge, he knew this sentient. He knew how he fought, he knew his favourite moves, he knew his favourite damned food. This had been a member of Pitch Black. Not only a member, but at one point a personal guard for Logan, he had been trusted… and Logan had assumed him dead. To find him here brought on mixed emotions. Was he with the Black Hand, or was he being forced to compete somehow?
The friendly manner in which he stood chatting with the Black Hand guards around the stadium just before his fight had cleared that up. This was no captive.
As Logan stood at the edge of the arena, waiting for the horn to blow and start the battle, a whisper reached his ears.
“He is a plant. It is arranged so that he ends up fighting T’dlan, they put on a stunning show for all and T’dlan maims him but never kills. They do it whenever there is a serious opponent that might reach the final against T’dlan. At the very least he will weaken anyone who is skilled enough to get through. Go carefully.”
The scheme did not surprise Logan. T’dlan the traitor was always a coward, his size brought him through most situations, his followers through the rest, so to have such a back up in this situation was pretty much expected.
Anger began to flow through the Stranger, it built and built until a torrent of rage threatened to explode out of him. This, of course was the second advantage he had just been given. Logan, the Stranger, fought at his best, at his most vicious when he was angry.
The horn sounded and Logan calmly opened one of the armoured pockets of his fatigues, withdrew a stim pack and jabbed the short, thick needles into his neck. The intoxicating mixture of drugs hit his bloodstream and the Stranger shivered. His vision sharpened, his senses tingled with added sensitivity, he grew aware of every little sound around him, every little movement, every smell. And he pushed it all back, concentrating only on his immediate surroundings, and on his opponent, who was charging into the arena. Discarding the used syringes, the Stranger walked out to meet his foe.
The crown went wild, they saw this as hesitation, fear perhaps. They jeered him, they cheered on his opponent, they hurled rotten food, feaces, empty containers at him, it mattered not. He ignored it all. His opponent had chosen the raised, circular platform at the heart of the arena to do battle. It was perhaps 20 feet in height, about the same again in diameter and had no barrier around it. A smaller, square platform rose above it from dead centre, just about large enough to allow one person to stand atop it, it gave the holder of this higher ground an extra four of five foot in height, and this is where the Abyssin stood, screaming and yelling at Logan, trying to push any buttons he could, to intimidate, scare, anger, anything, anything to bring the Stranger to him to fight.
The Stranger went along with it, but he did so at a steady pace, only breaking into a jog once he hit the ramp leading up to the platform in a wide spiral. By the time he reached its end, and entered the platform itself, he was at a full sprint, covering the ground between the edge and the central plinth where the jeering Abyssin stood much faster than anticipated. The Stranger leaped into the air, vaulting past the slightly stunned combatant and lashing out with his Ryyk as he went past. The Stranger landed the other side of the central plinth and came to a halt after taking a few strides. He turned and faced the Abyssin, brought up his blade and stuck his split tongue through the mask to lick at the blood along its edge, staring at his opponent.
The Stranger had taken first blood.
“Akeesh”
The Stranger whispered over and over again. Eventually the Abyssin took note, filtering out the word from the deafening noise of the crowd. His forehead furrowed.
“Stranger know Akeesh? Know how good he fight, know how nobody beat him, know..”
“I know Akeesh bend over for T’dlan, Akeesh a lap dog, Akeesh a TRAITOR”
This last was growled with such venom, it caught Akeesh off guard again, and the Stranger had darted in to scratch at his chest with the tip of the Ryyk again, drawing more blood. The split tongue darted out again, tasting the blood. The surprise was short lived and rage filled Akeesh. The large Abyssin moved with surprising speed, but Logan was expecting it, he had been baiting for it. As Akeesh came at him, The Stranger did something Akeesh would not expect, not even consider. He moved forward, coming inside the long reach of Akeeshs extended arms and punching hard into his stomach with the blade hand. The stranger drove that sharp blade right up to the hilt, twisted it and moved back and sideways whilst the Abyssin stumbled a step, its one eye open wide in pain and shock.
It was far from a killing blow to such a creature, but it would hurt it none the less. That was all Logan had planned for now.
“Akeesh the traitor, Akeesh the coward, Akeesh the dead.”
The Stranger darted in, keeping to his opponents left side and slammed the hilt of his Ryyk into the large eye that formed such an attractive target. The move caused Akeesh agonising pain and he dropped his weapons and clawed at his eye with his hands. He screetched and ranted,
“Who are you? Who knows Akeesh, WHO ARE YOUUUU.”
The Stranger bent in behind the Abyssin who was ow on his knees and whispered in his ear.
“My name AKeesh, is one you will wish you never heard again. I am back from the dead, back to make traitors dead. Back to repay treachery with blood. Tell me who I am Akeesh.”
The Abyssin went rigid with shock. The colour drained from his face. His arms dropped to his side and he just knelt there, staring blindly ahead.
“Akeesh knows.”
“Then tell me Akeesh, tell me why, WHY?!!!”
Logan was circling around like a predator, never standing still knowing full well that the Abyssins eye was slowly healing, it would regain sight at any time, and he would not be cught standing. He watched like a hawk, watched each and every twitch of muscle.
Logans blade snaked in again, slicing a strip from the damaged eye, causing Akeesh to wail in pain again,
“why, why, why”
He repeated over and over, each time making a cut to the eye, chest, arms, back. But the Abyssin never answered. Logan tired of the game and instead of a small cut, his next blow took the creatures head clean off its shoulders.
He picked it up and made his way towards the other end of the stadium, the crowd in a stunned silence. They had of course not been able to hear the encounter, but they had just seen a champion of theirs completely disgraced in a battle where he had not even managed to draw a trickle of blood.
When he reached his opponents end of the stadium, he looked up at T’dlan and hurled the severed head at him. It almost made it, but not quite, landing instead amongst the crowd of sycophants that surrounded him. The Stranger pointed at him and growled,
“You next.”
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Post by Logan Shivers on Aug 24, 2018 12:30:45 GMT
A deadly duel part 3
T’dlan misunderstood the threat as a challenge and was happy to play along, however he was not willing to risk a one on one with this formidable challenger just yet, one more opponent should soften him up enough.
“You want to fight me, you have to prove you are worth my time. I will meet you in the ring, if you can beat the Juggernaut.”
T’dlan had used a voice enhancing system so that the entire stadium could hear him, and the crown went wild with the mention of the Juggernaut. The cheers rose to a fever pitch and slowly a chant started to take over
JUGG-ER-NAUT, JUGG-ER-NAUT, JUGG-ER-NAUT
Logan was not overly concerned with the addition of yet another obstacle, he was way past caring. The rage and anger in him had been fuelled by the stims and his whole body was burning with the need to kill, he was a killing machine grinding its way towards the assigned target. He took himself to the centre of the arena and onto the tall platform, let them come to him, he had no interest in chasing anyone else around the place.
A set of heavy steel doors that had not been used so far opened near the middle of the arena. A pair of guards wering heavy armour came out, followed by two chain wielding slavers. Logans lips curled into a snarl at seeing them, a more despised being could surely not exist. From the darkness beyond the doors a large shadow began to take shape. It was attached to the end of the large chains and was slowly making its way out. Eventually the shadow stepped into the light and Logans breath caught.
There stood a Gamorrean that was possibly larger than Lyric. The thing was bulging muscles everywhere and wore heavy battle armour and carried a battle axe with a blade the size of Logans torso. The way he carried himself in his walk, Logan could tell this was no street thug, this one had full military training, it was a soldier…. It was… wait, did they call him Juggernaut?! That was the nickname one of his best and most trusted military commanders had used…
Argon Hagul had been in charge of the Military Academy on Saarn for the past five years, he had been with Pitch Black since the very beginning, his father had been a personal body guard to BOOMER, he had once shown an interest in following that path and being a bodyguard to Logan himself, but Logan had persuaded him that his skills were best placed in training elite forces. Logan, and all of the remaining Pitch Black high command had assumed him dead when news of what occurred on Saarn came out. None ever imagined he would turn traitor.
They were all wrong, he was right there in front of Logan, in chains, stun cuffs and a slave collar. He clearly had not turned traitor either, but it would appear was being used for the amusement of others in the fighting arena. Logan stood and watched as the chains were removed and the stun cuffs were powered down. The bulging muscles noticeably relaxed and the looming figure raised its head to stare at Logan up on the high central platform. The two slavers yelled instructions at Argon, emphasised by a tweak to his slave collar it seemed and the Juggernaut set off into the arena, heading for Logan.
It was not long before the two combatants were standing face to face. Even Logans near 7 foot stature could not compete with the near nine foot hulk before him. These Gamorreans came in two sizes, large and behemoth! Argon tapped his slave collar with hisaxe.
“I no want to kill you, have to.”
Despite the typically poor grasp of the common galactic language, Argon was an intelligent being, many fools had underestimated him over the years. Logan looked him in the eyes and saluted him with one of his two vibroaxes that he had picked up for this battle.
“Loyalty to Pitch Black is always repaid my friend. Give me a clean strike to your neck and the collar is off.”
Argon studied the masked figure in front of him with curiosity. This Stranger person was working for Pitch Black? Did they even still exist?
“You know Pitch Black?”
“I AM Pitch Black. I MADE Pitch Black.”
A fire lit in Argons eyes, but was then diminished as doubt crept in. He shook his head with sorrow.
“No, Logan made, Logan dead.”
“Logan is standing in front of you Argon Hagul. The same Argon who wanted to be my body guard, whos father was a body guard to my closest friend BOOMER. The same Argon who trained all my elite forces by my request. The same Argon who was one of the very few to know the link between me and the Bone Collectors. The Argon that beat Lyric in a duel four years ago to win a bet.”
The fire in Argons eye’s sparked again, he knew beyond doubt that this must be Logan, only he could know all of that about him. But his face then contorted in pain, the slave collar was bleeping and clearly had been activated to push him into action.
“Logan, go, must fight, must kill…”
“Spar with me Argon, lets put on a show and they will leave you alone… then let me take a shot at the collar.”
Without further hesitation Logan swung at Argon with his left hand axe, going in high and at the same time swinging in low and from the side with his right hand axe. Argon batted away the side blow with the steel haft of his axe and dodged easily aside from the downwards thrust.
The pair began to put on a show like no other. To anyone watching, they were locked in deadly combat. But they knew each other so well, they could push this show to the limits without worrying about actually killing the other. Sparks flew from clashing blades, ear piercing shrieks emitted from the vibroaxes hitting the heavy armour plate and dust rose from their fast moving feet when they hit the ground of the arena.
The two fought on and with each move, got closer to the royal pavilion end of the arena where T’dlan stood watching with his cronies, a smirk on his wide face. He cared not who would win, this epic battle would tire the Stranger out if it did nothing else.
They got closer and closer, until Logan judged it to be time.
“Give me the shot, after that… remember the Arkanian mission? The wall toss?”
Argon grunted his affirmation and Logans axes flashed in a dazzling display of speed, getting closer and closer to slicing at Argons neck. Then the hit came, with a clang that sounded more like a bell in a temple being struck, Logans right axe hit the slave collar at the same time as the left axe, on eather side of Argons head. The force of such a blow was too great even for that sturdy bit of equipment and it shattered. The left axe clipped Argons ear in the process, slicing a chunk off which made the oversized Gamorrean step back a pace. Logan took a few paces back himself and then charged at Argon, arms pumping furiously at his side to help build his speed.
Logan leaped, Argon dropped his battle axe and cupped his shovel sized hands. Logan hit the cupped hands with both feet and pushed with every ounce of strength in his legs. Argon at the same time heaved up with every ounce of strength in his arms and Logan catapulted into the air, over Argon, over the first four rows of stunned spectators. He performed a mid air summersault and eventually landed on the edge of the platform where T’dlan and his cronies stood, stupefied shock on their faces.
It was as if time stood still for just a moment, nobody on the platform moved or even seemed to breathe, then Logan took a step to the side and slammed his axe deep into the head of the nearest Black Hand guard shattering the spell.
Chaos broke out in the arena. Black Hand guards sprung to action, putting themselves in the path of Logans furious axes, but found that Logan was not the only enemy. The Bone Collectors had been in the crowd all along, hiding amongst the masses and they now showed themselves, cutting into the ranks of Black Hand soldiers with fury. Argon too was in motion, the moment Logan had sprung from his hands he had grabbed his weapon and was cutting through anyone who got in his way. He was heading towards Logan to do what he had sworn to himself he would do all those years ago… be his body guard and protector.
Up in the second tier of the arena stands, more soldiers appeared, Pitch Black troops armed with blasters and rifles who started to pound the enemy from above. This proved the final straw for the non-combatants in the arena, those who had come to watch a show not be stuck in the middle of a battel, and they started to flee in a blind panic, adding to the utter chaos and carnage. Alarms were raised and around the city, Black Hand forces moved into action, trying to get into the arena to help their leader. Their efforts hugely hindered by the crowds fleeing in the opposite direction.
Sen groaned to himself. This was exactly what was NOT supposed to happen, but, luckily for everyone, it was also what he suspected would happen with Logan playing the Stranger… His inability to stick to the damned plan was legendary. He flipped open his communicator and contacted Adde.
“Mobilise. Get all forces to the arena immediately and get ready for emergency exfiltration.”
He closed his comm unit and pulled out two ELG’s and calmly began to shoot at anyone that dared to show the enemy insignia, or try to get in his way. He pushed and shoved, shot and trampled his way towards the centre of the haos, finding Lyric on his way, knife in one hand, blaster in the other, slashing and shooting his own way into the heart of the battle.
“Logan has done it again my friend.”
“Logan like to make work for us, Lyric like this work.”
The Gamorrean was in his element, he was not going to complain about being in a battle.
Just outside the city, the GR-75 Groundpounder dropped its cargo bay ramp and our pouredthe Pitch Black forces, Jailspeeders and Ketrifee assault vehicles sped towards the Arena, loaded with troops. Adde was making his own way towards the arena, leading a squad of his elite in Blaze Trooper armour, the 6 ton machines could enter the arena itself to assist, where the other assault vehicles could not.
Within ten minutes of Sen sending the mobilize command, the first wave of Jailspeeders arrived on scene, their concussion grenade launchers popping as they launched a barrage of grenades into the broiling mass in front of them, not overly caring who or what they hit. They were simply tasked with clearing a path and they knew that no friendly forces were outside at this moment. Any citizens unlucky enough to still be there would get the sense knocked out of them but fatality was less likely, the grenades designed to stun and immobilise rather than kill.
The Jailspeeders formed a horseshoe, the open end facing the direction they had arrived from, and the Ketrifee’s moved into the space inside the formation. Troops began to pour out, using the jailspeeders as defensive barricades and began taking down the enemy soldiers outside the arena.
Realising that they now had invaders outside the arena as well, their focus split and they engaged the new danger, choosing to confront this enemy so that they did not get trapped in the arena with enemy ahead and behind them.
With two battle fronts formed, the battle was truly building into an inferno of blaster fire and explosions, the stuttering brief silences inbetween loaded with battle cries and screams of pain.
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Post by Logan Shivers on Aug 27, 2018 22:02:48 GMT
When rage explodes
Logan was in a red haze. He heard nothing, saw nothing, apart from his target and anyone brave enough, or stupid enough to get in his way. He had lost one of his axes along the way, but he had picked up a Ryyk and was just as happy hacking his way with that His light armour was dented, scortched and cracked, his full face mask long gone, shattered by a blaster bolt that would otherwise have taken his head. Argon and Lyric had managed to catch up to him and were flanking him, but Logan was unaware of their presence. He felt like he was battling a tide, but he was winning.
No, he had won. All of a sudden the obstacles were no longer there and T’dlan was in front of him. The two Trandoshan warriors squared up to each other, and Logan found some satisfaction in seeing the recognition in his most hated enemies face.
“Logan?! I should have known, only you would be crazy enough to risk it all to come here. You made another mistake old friend.”
There was a sneer on his face as he spoke, and he continued to speak but Logan heard no more. His lips curled into a snarl and a guttural grown rose from his boots.
“friend?.... FRIEND?!!! You DARE to use that word?... It is worth every drop of blood to wipe you and your smirking face from the face of this little planet you have made home.”
No more time was wasted on words, Logan launched himself at T’dlan with all his rage, all his hatred, and all his might. Axe and Ryyk clashed with vibroblade and knife and sparks flew again.
Lacking any sort of honour, Black Hand guards tried to intervene and help their leader kill Logan, but two giant Gamorreans blocked their path, joined at some point by Tersen and Solan and four other Bone Collectors. The duel between Logan and T’dlan raged on, and the Collectors kept a moving perimeter, ensuring that nobody interfered.
Outside the building, Adde had arrived and he and his squad of Blaze trooper clad elite soldiers blasted their way towards the building. On the far right, the Pitch Black forces were making their stand, but he was heading to the large double steel doors in the centre of the building that appeared to be less heavily guarded.
“Heavy Weapons squad to my position.”
The order was answered immediately by a team in a Ketrifee. The vehicle rose above the chaos and landed in a space made by the blaze troopers. The team came out and went to work on the steel doors, their rotating cannons and K-43’s making short work of the doors.
“Follow us in, if we come across no further doors return to previous duties.”
The Blaze troopers entered the building, made their way down a long tunnel that appeared to run under the stands. It had cells running along both sides, with some nasty looking individuals inside them, but Adde could see ahead that the next set of doors that it appeared led directly into the battle arena were open wide.
“Change of plan. Ahead is clear. Crack the cells open and give the inhabitants weapons, let them loose and let them add to the chaos. If you see any known faces, any Pitch Black members, advise them of the evac and get them out of there.”
The armoured squad carried on ahead and the heavy weapons crew got to work on their new mission. Just as they got to the exit into the arena, a new comms channel opened in Addes command comms unit. He came to a halt, partly sheltered by the tunnel they had emerged from, whilst his squad took a defensive formation in the arena itself.
“Adde, what is the situation inside the arena? Sen has not been responding to comms.”
It was Cora, who had gone with the Pitch Black forces to help organise that side of the attack. It did not take Adde long to judge the situation.
“Messy. I can see the focal point, can see Logan and T’dlan battling, large contingent of Collectors in a ring around them, Sen appears to be there. Suppressing fire from above is limited, looks like enemy forces are up there already and keeping troops busy. The Collectors are outnumbered, but our team should even that out shortly.”
“Out here is not good sir, there are at least five times more of the enemy than our best estimates and more are arriving. Reports have also started to come in that the Republic has mobilised ground forces from neighbouring cities to check out the disturbance, gunships and troop transports are inbound, ETA 36 minutes.”
Adde looked around him again. Yes, the stadium was filled with enemy soldiers, more than anticipated here too. There would be no quick evac from this mess.
“Cora? – get the Groundpounder in, land it right in front of the main entrance to the stadium and form all of our ground forces around it, try to keep a patch clear to the stadium but if not don’t worry. Keep me updated on progress.”
Adde switched to his squads channel.
“We go in hard, concentrate on weakening the forces between the focal point and the main entrance/exit to the stadium. We need to guide that battle towards the exit so we can try to exfiltrate.”
The powerful team sprang to action, the suits providing so much enhanced strength to the soldiers that even a swipe of the arm would send multiple enemy troops flying aside with broken bones and twisted limbs. Add the powerful blasters and skilled combatants, and the result was a force to be reckined with. The arrow head formation punched into the enemy and was barely slowed, despite the vastly overwhelming numbers the enemy had in place. Bladed weapons barely scratched the armour suits, whilst the shields held most of the blaster bolts at bay.
But it became obvious that this was going to be a battle of attrition, and with the sheer volume of the enemy soldiers, even the Blaze trooper armour would eventually crack. They were about half way to the exit, the ring of collectors riding their wake behind them, Logan and T’dlan still in a crazy duel that seemed to be being sucked along for the ride. The first Blaze trooper armour unit failed, one blaster bolt too many hit it and the shields failed, seeing this several enemy soldiers concentrated their firepower and shattered the armour. The armour unit went down and was shortly joined by a second. The progress towards the exit came to a grinding halt.
“Cora? I need an update, and fast.. We may need you to send in assistance..”
“Sorry sir, no chance of assistance, we are holding our own, but pinned down tight. All in place as requested though.”
This was trouble. Adde took stock of their situation whilst blasting, punching and kicking his way through as many of the enemy as he could. There was certainly no time to stand around.
What he saw was not good, and even his combat skills and tactical ability failed him in coming up with an answer.
And then something strange happened, something… horrifying.
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