A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
I can tell that you both had a lot of fun writing this duel, and that's awesome. I can say for certain that I had a lot of fun reading it- you two created a maelstrom of destruction that spanned the entire arena, and managed to develop a very engaging dynamic between your characters in the process.
As always, though, judgments can't be all roses and pats on the back, and in a whirlwind of a fight like this one, where both players managed to inflict damage on each other and the eventual outcome isn't totally clear, we're forced to look at the technical aspect of the fight to determine a winner. With that being said, let's dive right into it.
Loki: both myself and my fellow judge for this match agree the most glaring issue with your posts is the amount of force that you use. From smashing the fighter to constantly using Force Sense to pinpoint Marvik's location, as well as Force Speed and more telekinesis, Loki was throwing off energy like a fire hydrant the entire match. You do a great job of noting your fatigue, constantly making sure to mention that you're using the last of your energy, etc., and that's an awesome step in the right direction. However you always seem to have just enough for one more power. It does no good to mention your reserves are running low if you never let yourself actually hit that threshold. But like I said you're moving in the right direction, it just needs polishing. Dont be afraid to run yourself dry- it's much better to be realistic about your force powers and deal with the consequences than it is to milk it for more and get dinged in the judgment.
There are two more big ticket items that I want to address: the first is your cybernetic eye. Multiple times you use it to pinpoint Marvik's location, and you also use it to discern the explosive he jury-rigs to his jetpack. However, there's no mention of it being EMP shielded in your character sheet, so it should have been offline unusable from the time you were caught by the grenade onward.
The second is your last post. You state that the flames and smoke should obscure you from the Mandalorian's vision, but by the same token he should have been obscured from yours, making the Force Choke impossible. This is also the biggest offense for force use, where you stop a jetpack using the last of your energy, and while holding that presumably tenuous focus and grievously wounded manage to anticipate and dodge the falling fighter, then instantly go for a choke against your foe.
Now, on to the actual match itself: as I said before this was an absolutely amazing read. Neither of you were afraid to take damage, and you both threw yourself into it with everything you had. That said, Loki took much more damage throughout the fight. While he managed to use it to his advantage, relying on the old dark side standby of using his pain to fuel his power, Marvik kept him too busy reacting to ever mount an effective offense of his own.
So, for dealing more damage and controlling the fight, we declare Marvik the victor.
Thank you for participating and for the thrilling duel; I can't wait to see what you guys get up to in round 2!
I'd like to begin this judgment with a simple but heartfelt thank you: dueling has always been very near and dear to my heart, and garnering enough interest in the art to actually host a sixteen-person tournament on TSC is a landmark occasion, which without the both of you would simply be impossible.
Anyway, enough sap. On to the judgment!
This duel was an incredibly entertaining read from start to finish. The antics of a homicidal pest vs. a fresh-faced newbie with a need to prove herself kept me coming back for more. However, there were certain instances where Addison's sentence structure made it difficult to picture exactly what she was doing. One of the key combat tenets for judging criteria is clarity, and there were multiple times I had to read your posts several times- and even reference earlier posts- in order to piece together your move.
-If I had one piece of advice for you, it would be to give your posts an extra read-through before you submit them. Ask yourself if you're painting as crystal clear a picture as you can. Are there unnecessary sentences cluttered throughout your actions? Is there enough detail that anyone could determine at a glance what you're doing? Do you use landmarks in the scenario as reference points to more accurately describe your location? If you exercise due diligence with these I promise you'll see a huge improvement in the finished product.
The next topics I want to discuss are actually the first things that jumped out at me during my initial reading of the fight, and since the two are inextricably intertwined in this instance I'll cover them both now: two key combat tenets that I saw virtually ignored in Addison's posts were Time and Realism.
-The most glaring example is your defense against the explosion caused by your blaster bolt to the hoversled. It appears- and I use that phrasing intentionally, because your exact actions are difficult to discern from your post- that you used an Untrained/Novice level Force Armor or Barrier variant to shield yourself from the blast. I was actually prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt with this one if you had been overwhelmed and taken severe damage, but used it to avoid dying. However, to instinctively create a barrier strong enough to hold under subsequent explosions would be impossible.
-Another example of breaking with realism is when you claim to perform a dodge roll that carries you twenty-five feet. Such a feat of acrobatics is wholly impossible for Humans and Near-Humans without using the Force.
-Your timing in not only dodging the hoversled but outrunning it once Malapert seizes control through Telekinesis to pursue you is completely out of sync with how events would've actually taken place. While 25 mph is pretty slow for a vehicle, it's much faster than the average human is capable of moving, and Malapert goes out of his way to specify that once he uses the force to move the sled, it exceeds that speed.
Another subject I want to touch on is Metagaming. Addison, in one of your posts you state you expect the hoversled to explode, but offer no explanation as to how you came to that conclusion.
-It's important to remember that your character does not know what you, the author, knows unless you can reasonably glean that information from your surroundings. If you can make a rational deduction that leads you the same conclusion, fine, but what I saw here was a clear cut case of metagaming, and a violation of the rules.
Despite all this, the main reason we reached the ruling we did is because Malapert exhibited complete and total control of this match from start to finish. Every single one of his posts dictated absolutely the path the duel would take, leaving his opponent scrambling to react and unable to mount any defense of her own. Even when the move to close range was made, it was at his discretion. Not once for the entire duration of the match was his opponent able to put him in any danger whatsoever.
For these reasons we the judges find Malapert Piffle to be the victor.
Thank you both for your participation in the Battle Arena. Malapert, congratulations. Addison, better luck next time. If you apply the advice I gave you and pay attention to timing and spacial reasoning in your next round, I guarantee you'll see a huge jump in skill level. As always practice makes perfect, so keep your focus on mastering the fundamentals and you'll grow into a duelist to be reckoned with.
I manifest amidst a roiling cloud of green, my body solidifying within moments. The tattered black fabric of my robes takes a bit longer, and retain a shimmering, ethereal quality despite my best efforts. Ah well, I'll improve with practice I'm sure.
Immediately I notice Ryu. Unsurprising, that. When you're a God in everything but name, few things outside of your own pursuits can hold your interest, but one of those is definitely watching lesser beings struggle for their life. I glance at the nearest display screen, where a naked Gen'Dai is rapidly closing on a fleeing Mandalorian. That old familiar itch is instant- the urge to test my power against poor odds, to see if I have transcended beyond a previously established threshold- but I ignore it for now, and glance away.
My gaze finds Willie, and I shake my head, bemused. One of the strangest things about dying was the realization that the entire universe was guided not by the blind, inexorable laws of science, or by all-knowing, infinitely wise creators of unfathomable depth and patience...but by the Chroniclers.
Whether such knowledge should be funny or terrifying, I haven't decided yet.
I seat myself at the nearest unoccupied table and withdraw a battered deck of cards. Like my clothing they are ghostly, flickering. My forefinger taps a nonsense rhythm as I look between the two men. "Pazaak, anyone?"
RULES: -Battle Arena Standard -Weapons and gear listed in first post
LOCATION:
The Battle Circle in Keldabe is just that: a roughly measured pit of packed sand, ten paces from center to edge in any direction. Its edges are denoted by planks of local wood, and around those edges Mandalorians gather close to witness the challenges. To leave the confines of the circle is to dishonor yourself and your clan; there is no escape save bloody victory or an even bloodier death.
You are inside of the beautiful City of Theed on the planet of Naboo. You meet your opponent in one of the many gardens scattered throughout the city, at the site of a large pool, standing calf-deep in the water. Various jets shoot arcing streams of shining water high into the air for decorative purposes. Blood will run red in these clear waters; destroy the peaceful scene of Naboo with your fight!
LOCATION: -Balance is key when there is nothing below you save for one thin piece of metal that somebody deemed a bridge. It is shaky, thin, and if one looked below they would see nothing but a nearly infinite pit and a tremendous impending fall to the Death Star's core. The combatants will start at either end of the catwalk.
Of course, at the midway point of the catwalk is the tractor beam control tower itself, there's a small lip that you could probably inch yourself along to the side, bypassing a small part of the catwalk... if you dare.
I remain still in the face of Ryu's advance, but not idle. Perdition finds its way into my right hand. I grip its hilt in the center, and with a thought, the forward end ignites, a crimson blade of plasma extending to standard length in a heartbeat. The beskar of my crushgaunts creaks against the phrikite, and my eyes narrow in anticipation.
There are two things I'm reasonably sure of. The first is that, given the choice, Ryu will never make the first attack. Against lesser Sith, maybe, or those who pose no threat, but against a true foe, his preference is always to defend and and exploit the first opening that presents itself. That's fine by me- while I hold the same preferences, someone must always take the first step. Besides, I am the challenger, am I not? I took the initiative, and it remains mine.
The second is that, mathematically, I cannot defeat him. 'Everything else being equal,' is a phrase preceding many of our discussions. It can reasonably be assumed that our martial skills are nearly identical, with perhaps some minor discrepancies. I'm probably the better swordsman, for instance, while Ryu's an unparalleled marksman (that makes it interesting that he's closing the distance, doesn't it? At range, he would have an incredibly strong advantage. Curious.). But, all in all, I'd say we're close to equal fighters. His strengths, however- the myriad aspects of his power- far surpass mine.
But, I didn't challenge him because I thought defeat was inevitable. Make of that what you will.
As he closes I discern that he's drawn the flash pistol. Out of his ranged weaponry, it's the only one that would pose a serious threat- yet again, heatbeams and blaster bolts, while unlikely to kill me, could harry me endlessly- so I'll have to keep an eye on it. I have no defense against it save avoidance, and even that will achieve the same effect as the flash itself.
Drawing on the force is effortless, shaping it is child's play. It begins to take form as I prepare it for a specific task: Telekinesis. Let's keep it simple for now, shall we? If my sorcery comes into play, it'll be later, when other avenues have exhausted themselves.
But he's close, now, and my observations end.
I stride forward to meet him at the last second, a step forward with my left foot, and then a lunge forward on my right, Perdition streaking forward as my weight settles, knee bent slightly, saber thrusting toward his sternum in a lightning fast probe.
As my arm reaches two-thirds extension, another thought sends the blade screaming out to its full length of six feet, staggering the timing. I doubt it will throw him off much- he knows the weapon as well as I do, after all- but it will add some complexity to the attack.
We landed within the cavernous hangar without incident, Ielyn piloting in his typical fashion- safe, dependable, boring. It was how he approached every task set before him, and it was why I kept him on such an obscenely high retainer (well, that, and the fact that he was too smart to face certain death for any less), but it was his lack of flair when it came to piloting that I appreciated the most. After traversing the galaxy in the Yama with Ryu at the helm, it was a welcome change of pace to not be constantly anticipating impact.
Speaking of Ryu...he's the reason I'm here, in more ways than one. Our recent travels together- dispersing Jedi from Honoghr to obtain cybernetics, joining our knowledge of alchemy to construct my gauntlets and Perdition, exploring the Way in more depth than ever before- have served to bolster my power to unprecedented levels. Sitting in the co-pilot seat of a nondescript Gamma-class shuttle as Ielyn gently sets its weight upon the landing struts, I am, I think, the closest thing to a god the galaxy has ever witnessed.
Either that, or the second closest thing. That's what I'm here to discover. There is only one person left for me to test my power against. All others- every. single. one.- have been crushed beneath my heel, fallen to the wayside of a path leading to an inevitable confrontation. I stand at that path's end now.
Yet my triumph is tinged with grief. I don't think it's necessary to explain why. Ryu has played many roles in my journey, but first and foremost, he is my best and only friend.
"Ramp's down," Ielyn grunted.
"Mm. You may depart once I disembark. I'll contact you if I require your services again."
"If?" I rose without answering, turning to depart. "Hey, wait a second!"
To his credit, Ielyn didn't wither beneath my glare. To mine, that was as far as it went. The most important event in galactic history- and I refute your accusation of hyperbole- is about to take place, and my nerves are coiled tight, whips ready to crack. "What is it?"
The mercenary reached beneath his seat, fishing for a moment before retrieving a battered looking DL-44 blaster pistol, sporting a worn handgrip and iron sights. Brow furrowed, he pushed it at me. "You...ah, you should take this, boss. I know it doesn't look like much, but it's saved my life more than once. Had a wise woman- don't know if she was sensitive or addled, but she told me it was lucky. 'Imbued', or something."
My expression softened as I regarded the pistol, and for just a moment I wonder at the path I've chosen. Then I close a black hand around the gun. "Ah, indeed. She may have been right, in her own way. Some molecules bear a closer attenuation to the force than others. When an item is created from enough of those materials, I imagine it begins to seem very lucky indeed. Thank you, Ielyn."
I moved to turn before he could reply, putting an end to the conversation, but he simply stared out the viewport, silent in the wake of my departure.
I waited until the glow of his sublight engines shrank against the horizon before I walked to the hangar's mouth. Before me stretches an endless wasteland: desert plateaus and yawning canyons, the brutal beauty of a dead world. With a sigh, I tossed the blaster pistol over the edge.
But, that doesn't leave me unarmed. I'm wearing the crushgaunts Ryu and I created: micronized beskar gloves that extended halfway up my forearms. I'm carrying the saberstaff that Ryu and I forged: Perdition, a monstrous, double ended weapon with independent blades featuring dual phase lengths, linked to my cybernetics for instantaneous, effortless control. I'm wearing my robes: black cloth dyed with Norris-root and interwoven with strands of shell-spider silk for excellent energy absorption. And the runes that Ryu helped me draw glow brightly upon my gloves: alchemical glyphs scribed to hold a single charge of a single power- Ballistakinesis- until I chose to release it.
You know Ryu, if you lose you'll finally know the answer to that age old question: is there a Sith Lord powerful enough to create a weapon that even he can't defeat? Even if you lose, in a way that's still a victory for you. Some consolation, eh?
Minutes turn into hours as I lean against the hangar's back wall, bathed in shadows and meditation. Drawing the force to me is effortless, but the waiting...the waiting is difficult. At last, another ship approaches, the whine of the engines echoing on the empty world, and I can feel his presence plain as day. I'm sure he can see me even from there, but I don't bother approaching.
I let out a breath when he takes his first step off the ramp. This is really happening. The two most powerful beings in the universe meet...in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wastes.
Sure enough, he calls out, and I make my reply while striding forward to meet him:
"That desire does indeed burn within me, Lapay no Ryu. There is no one else left to test my power against...you're it, my friend."
Lapay no Ryu vs. Lapay no Tal Rules: GBA Standard, Top Ten Force Powers, Equipment listed in first post, no extensions (two weeks without a post=automatic forfeiture) Where:
You find yourselves inside of the legendary Dooku's Hanger, the site of the battle between Separatist Count Dooku and a trio of Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-wan Kenobi, and Yoda. High ceilings give and airy feel to the cave and gas release tubes run along all of the walls, letting out the natural gas of the planet in small measures. Two doors are on either side of the chamber, one leading to a maintenance room and corridor, the other leading to a fuel storage room. Currently there is not a ship in the hangar.
The Grand Convocation Chamber, also referred to as the Senate Rotunda, was the largest room in the Senate Building on Coruscant. It was over 100 meters tall and consisted of 1,024 pods for Senators from all over the galaxy. The entrance to the Chamber was the Atrium of the Senate, and it was ringed by the Grand Concourse. When choosing a color scheme for the walls, ancient designers chose lavender”as it was the only shade that had not been historically associated with mourning, anger, or war in the entire Galaxy.
In the center, a thirty-meter-tall podium would rise up from the Chancellor's holding office for the Senate sessions. The podium is currently fully risen.
Standard Battle Arena Rules; Top Ten Force Powers (listed in first post)
Night time on Kashyyk, the combatants are in the shadowlands (on the ground) shadows and the sounds of beasts are plentiful. The ground is damp and the air humid with large roots making an obstacle course of the field. The Forest is filled with vicious beasts that may turn up at any time in packs big enough to send the natives running for the nearest elevator to the nearest canopy settlement.
Roots vary in size and reach up to 40 ft in the air with open space below them and are generally moss covered making them slick and harder to be sure footed on.
Blaster fire drums against my chest and upraised arms like raindrops- and causing the same amount of damage. The shell-spider silk and Norris root dyes woven through my cloak absorb the bolts effortlessly, and behind the sleeve protecting my face, I feel a manic grin stretch my lips. This feels...good. I've been so carefully conserving my power, using only what was absolutely necessary, never exceeding the level of force needed to overcome my foe.
Opening up like this is fun. My emotions run hot, anger boiling off of me freely, mixing with smug satisfaction as two of the troopers drop. The one whose neck I broke is dead- I feel it scream through the force, and it excites me even more. The other one is getting there. His energy is invigorating, intoxicating, and I chase every last drop like an addict hunting for crumbs of spice. What little drain on my abilities I felt from my attack (an infinitesimal amount anyway) has abated, and power flows freely.
They wanted so desperately for us to be the bad guys. It looks like they've got their wish.
***
Curcebithin snarled triumphantly as his blades sank deep, cleaving armor and then flesh. But his victim was a fighter- an elbow caught the Irrukine in the ribcage. Disgusted, he released the choke-hold and shoved his blades out, forcing the skewered soldier away from him. The knife flashed backward, vibration generator humming dangerously but missing its target as the acolyte yanked his blades free and pulled away.
Black blood coating his knives, Curcebithin watched, dumbfounded, as the soldier spun around and threw a hasty punch toward his armored midsection. Perhaps the pain had disoriented him? There was a good chance his kidney had been pierced, along with his bowels. He must be in agony, yet he fought on.
Not that it mattered. The acolyte swept his left knife to the side, intercepting the punch with the edge of his blade, aiming to chop through the soldier's wrist. In the same instant, his upper right hand shot forward, fingers splayed, as he launched a Push, meaning to launch his opponent away from him.
Into the sudden inferno.
***
I'd nearly finished making a meal of the crippled trooper, and the extra power was brimming within me. Nearby, Ryu effortlessly defends against a hail of blaster fire, and, in the first display of intelligence I've seen since arriving on Honoghr, the commander of the other group of soldiers sends his men away. There is no shame in running, you know. If your power is insufficient to meet a threat, you are not obligated to face it anyway. Flee, regroup, build your power and fight another day. In the back of my mind I applaud them their perceptiveness. This is no battle, after all, but an inevitable slaughter.
Ah, no, wait. The commander is staying behind, launching into the air with a jetpack. Idiot.
Then, danger, imminent and ugly. Snarling, I turn to see some kind of metal container streaking toward me. Instantly I break the link between myself and the soldier, leaving my meal unfinished. Instead I use the power I'd siphoned and let the dark side coalesce in a Force Barrier, erupting around me in a shimmering second-skin. The crate makes impact squarely with my chest- and stops, its momentum broken effortlessly.
Ah, but Loki is right behind it, his lightsaber already streaking out in a doomed horizontal slash. I offer him a smile as his blade meets my Barrier, our eyes meeting.
And then we're engulfed in fire as both of Raven Squad's thermal detonators explode, throwing dust and chunks of duracrete in a wide circle around us.
I don't wait for the smoke to clear, or even for the explosion to end. Both hands extend outward, aiming for where Loki had just been standing, twin heat beams pierce the gloom, unstoppable rays of energy seeking to melt flesh and bone.
***
The shockwave was enough to knock the acolyte from his feet. He landed on his back with a heavy thud and rolled, chainmail jangling as he executed a sloppy backwards somersault. Any Ataru practitioner would've laughed in his face, but it got the job done, and he was no worse for the wear. One one knee, now, Curcebithin looked from side to side, scanning the hangar for his next target. It seemed the military personnel were breaking formation, fleeing.
Cowards.
The Jedi weren't running, though. All four arms flexing powerfully in anticipation, the Irrukine rose to his feet, a predatory gaze set upon Adieumus Matango.
I've been in this situation before, you know. On Ossus. A meeting with the Jedi, my motives plain but met with suspicion nonetheless. You see, I don't lie to these Jedi or their allies; I don't need to. Lying is a tool only of use when your power is insufficient on its own. I was honest with Master Devlin, back on Ossus, and I'd been honest with Adieumus today.
But, I decided as a tap of my forefinger deactivates my commlink, it doesn't matter. Time is cyclical, and we play out the same epic battles and grand dramas over and over again. The outcome is the same, no matter if the Jedi had cooperated or if we burn this hospital to ashes: those with the power to do so, take what they desire.
And those lacking the power to stop them perish in their wake.
It happens quickly: the RDMC begins to shake as it's struck by blast after blast; Ryu reveals his identity and makes a dire proclamation; the Jedi Adieumus begins a slow advance, the trigger-happy clones from earlier unleashing a barrage simultaneously; and four other soldiers in similar armor approach me, their rifles raised, their warnings grim.
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Slowly, I sweep aside my cloak to reveal the twin LL-30 blaster pistols threaded through my belt. One black hand closes over each grip and lifts the weapons free, holding them out to my sides, an offer of momentary truce. Oh, but I can feel it stirring now, deep within the recesses of my mind. A thing long forgotten, sealed away in an effort to avoid ruin.
[/font] I said quietly, my head bowed. "I am rage unending. I am hunger insatiable. I am power immeasurable. And you...you're dead."[/font][/ul][/ul]
Everything grows dim around me- it's like I'm looking through foggy glass, struggling to see, struggling to think. My own voice sounds far away, and the battle raging just a few meters away has fallen away completely.
And then, my anger roars awake.
Motionless, my head still bowed, I let the dark side explode, a tendril of telekinetic energy snapping out with lightning speed toward the trooper on the far left (from my perspective), seeking to wrap around his head and give a savage, fatal twist.
In the same instant I turned to the right, left arm raising to shield my face from the inevitable hail of blaster fire, and my predatory gaze set on the trooper to the right of the firing line. Lips parting, tongue darting out hungrily, I sought to Drain the soldier's life force. It would only take a heartbeat, maybe two, and his energy would be mine, leaving naught but a husk in cheap armor left behind.
***
The chaos unfolded, as Curcebithin had known was inevitable, and the Irruukine watched it all with an impassive gaze. Worthy foes filled the hangar bay- his only dilemma was choosing a target. But finally his gaze settled on the sorceror they called 'Tal'- or was it 'Ishmael'?- and he started forward, the songsteel ringmail shirt he wore jangling with his movements.
A group of soldiers had the Sith that Abbadon had sent him to spy on backed up against a sealed corridor, with their weapons drawn. He wasn't sure what the Sith'ari's end game was with the two Lapay, but the acolyte doubted it involved him being slaughtered by Republic soldiers.
His lower two hands found the grips of his twin kukri and pulled the curved knives free, songsteel blades glinting as he came up behind the soldier who stood next to the one doing all the talking. With a grunt, the Iruukine moved to wrap his upper arms around his neck in a rear choke, pulling him close and stabbing upward simultaneously, aiming to drive the knives up, punching through armor and bone to steal the soldier's life away.
I ran blackened fingertips down the corpse's face, caressing the cold, hard flesh. Her features were unmarred in death- if a little bloated- but lower, her midsection had been savaged. Her entrails were missing, probably eaten by the infected, and both legs were completely shattered. Fragments of white bone protruded from rotting wounds. She had not died easy, but that would make this easier. Those who died violent deaths tended to wander a little more freely in Chaos, and tended to answer my call with less of a struggle.
[/i]"[/font] I said in a harsh whisper, and the force reverberated with a thunderclap.[/font][/ul][/ul]
Caught in a black whirlwind of energy, my hair and robes fluttered violently, mirrored by the cadaver I now held cradled in my arms. The ceiling groaned, dust sifting down, and down the hallway, the screams of the infected rose in pitch.
And then it was gone, disappearing as suddenly as it had come. For a moment, there was nothing. Then her eyelids fluttered, and her lips parted.
[/font][/ul][/ul]
[/font] I said hastily, laying a finger over her lips. "None of that now, dearest."[/font][/ul][/ul]
Dull yellow eyes shifted upward to meet mine, a window into a mind that knew nothing but pain. Were I capable of empathy I might have felt guilty for shoving her soul back into this ragged, flayed body. As it were I simply gathered my strength once more. To raise a corpse is a simple task- but the end result is a ravenous, slavering meat puppet, incapable of anything but rabid obedience. To actually pluck a soul from Chaos and drag it back to the mortal plane...well, let's just say I'd had to roll my sleeves up for that one.
But I don't need her for long.
Drain Knowledge is a less arcane technique than any of the necromantic arts, but just as useful, and in this situation, it was either scrape the information I needed from her brain, or have what I imagined would be a painfully slow and dramatic conversation with the flayed zombie. I made shushing noises as I laid a black hand across her forehead, letting the dark side seep into her newly resurrected consciousness. To endure the shock of returning to the living, and then the cold, vicious rape I now visited upon her mind...if she hadn't been insane before, she soon would be.
[/font] I tell her, distracted. Images flit before my eyes and voices fill my ears as I am taken far away, into the living mind of another being.[/font][/ul][/ul]
I don't know how much time has passed when I finally release my magic. She heaves a ragged sigh as her spirit flees shrieking back to Chaos, then goes limp in my arms. I drop her unceremoniously and stand, brushing the dust from my cloak. Blinking to clear my vision, I cast a glance at the Zabrak.
