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| The Crossroads | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2010, 11:19 PM (7,028 Views) | |
| ~CrypticOcean~ | Sep 5 2010, 04:49 AM Post #71 |
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Parasite
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((Finally got this post up, hope you do not mind that I started the attack on my post. If I jumped the gun, my most sincere apologies. I am willing to alter anything written, if that is the case.)) Sy'thikrus was awash in a storm of emotion. Rage and anticipation, all boiling deep within his chest, churning about like a sea during a terrible storm. He could feel his hatred for the rebels rising further and further into his throat, tempting him to spew forth the bile of his contempt. However, he swallowed his hate, and mastered his excitement. Now, more than ever, he would have to think with a clear head. These rebels were backed into a corner, and literally had nothing to lose in death. Those that had to be taken alive would likely rather die anyway, rather than face the wrath of High Command. He was certain that the rebels would likely not be content with the choices of simply dying or being caught. Those rebels were trapped on an irradiated ship, with their enemies on their trail. If they had escape pods on that ship, it was likely they would have used them already, or perhaps they merely could not access them. Regardless, his "comrades" were delivering them a means to escape, if they were not careful. He did not care for the fates of those who would be with him, perhaps with the Zebesian as the only exception.. True, he was a Lieutenant, but, he displayed none of that commanding arrogance, and certainly did not seem to pretend that he was Sy'thikrus' superior. In addition, it was doubtful that he was treated much better than a common grunt, especially if they put him on a Science vessel. Regardless, if he had to decide between escaping with his life, or sacrificing his own for the Zebesian, the choice was rather obvious. His vengeance would not be realized in death. He continued through the corridors of the vessel, until he finally found the boarding ship he was assigned to. He stepped on, taking his seat, and remaining utterly silent as he donned his protective gear. He became introspective. Some would call it meditation, but what he focused his mind on was anything but calm and serene. They were visions of blood and carnage, fulfillement of his darkest desires, his greatest aspirations. The blood of these rebels strewn across the the inside of their worthless ship, each begging for their lives as he snuffed it. With each death, he was doing High Command a service. With each prisoner, he was doing High Command a boon. High Command thought all it took for him to prevent him from taking his vengeance was the threat of death. He would show them the error of their thinking. The rest of his squadron boarded the vessel, the Lieutenant stepped in, giving his subordinates one final nod before the ships left the bay, speeding towards their destination, escorts at their side. -------- The Salty Dog was unable to repel the assault, the entry-shuttles easily bypassing its defenses with harrying from the escorts. The shuttles' sharpened bows slammed into the sides of the Salty Dog, piercing its hull and rending it open, not unlike how a maggot burrowed into its host. Powerful spikes slammed into the inside of the ship, securing it in place. Crimson lights flashed as the doors to the drop-shuttle opened with an unceremonious -thud-, and the shielding dropped, allowing the troopers free reign to open fire. Sy'thikrus' readied weapon was met with no targets. It was utterly desolate here. The ship alarms blared loudly as he took in the layout of the surrounding area. Assured that the hall was clear for the moment, he fell back slightly, waiting for the rest to catch up. It was bothersome to be given no foes to slaughter. Doubtlessly, whatever calamity had occured to this ship previously had stretched the crew too thin for even defensive purposes. He felt, however, that there had to be more to this than there seemed. There was little chance that they would have not at least attempted to mount a defense. "We must be wary. There are doubtlessly traps awaiting for us to trigger them...and who knows what else the rebels may be willing to resort to in order to remain...free." he growled. He turned his attention to the Zebesian, knowing that he still had to obey the chain of command, just in case any of them survived to report his insubordination. "If it seems like a sound plan to you, Lieutenant, I believe that I possess the ability to make my way to the bridge undetected. I can slaughter anything that dares to stand in my way, and make certain the way is clear on our side. I can lie in wait until you reach the bridge, and take the rebels by surprise. Perhaps even gain a hostage as leverage for the others." he said enticingly, wanting nothing more than to depart from the squadron to avoid having orders barked at him. He also felt that this was a relatively sound plan, in spite of the lack of initial resistance. One never knew what would creep forth from the shadow. He stood at the ready for any signs of movement, unwilling to believe that the rebels did not have something up their sleeves. Edited by CrypticOcean, Sep 6 2010, 12:39 AM.
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That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.~"Much discussed" couplet from a certain tome. "Hoohehehahahaha...AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" | |
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| +Aiko+ | Sep 5 2010, 10:41 AM Post #72 |
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Roffel House!
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(OOC: I wrote more, but decided not to post it all because I want everybody to have a chance to react to this. ;-) Other than the rebel Sy'thikrus had encountered the moment he boarded the Salty Dog, the ship was eerily quiet. The boarding crew had no idea that the Salty Dog's crew was down to merely 8 after the Ing attack, too small a number to repel an attack. They proceeded slowly, expecting an attack at every turn, and growing more and more wary as no one appeared to stop them. The halls were bathed in bloody red light, the walls gashed open or entirely missing in some places, and it was quickly apparent just how badly damaged the Salty Dog really was. Although a team was headed towards engineering, radiation levels were still too high to approach the engine block, even with the protective environmental suits. Disabling the engines became low priority at that point, since access was barred uniformly by the environmental hazard. The ship was eerily silent. Main power was down, and the humming of battery-powered emergency lighting and that incessant whine of the alarm echoed in the belly of the ship, reverberating off the structural damage that was visible everywhere. At this point, Sy'thikrus had to wonder if the ship was even salvageable. Undoubtedly, that question had distracted the point man as he stepped across a gap in the floor panel... and was pulled down so forcefully that his legs sheared off from his torso and twitched uncontrollably in a pool of their own blood. There was no scream and no death rattle. He had simply been there one instant and gone the next. The others backed away, pointing their weapons at the hole, heads whipping all around as they tried to determine the enemy's location. It was dark in this hallway, too dark, and a growing sense of dread welled up inside the boarding party. Were the Ing still here? Suddenly, the last man in their line was snatched by something mid-torso, and was ripped in two. His gurgling scream of agony shattered the foreboding, blood splashing everywhere like wine from shattered crystal. Muzzle flash lit up the corridor, briefly illuminating something in the darkness beyond, but it vanished too quickly to identify. The boarding party fell back upon themselves into a defensive huddle, bristling with weapons pointed outward like a frightened hedgehog, as they heard screams and shots from other regions of the ship. |
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| ~CrypticOcean~ | Sep 5 2010, 04:23 PM Post #73 |
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Parasite
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Sy'thikrus growled as his platoon began to drop like flies. He smelt the sickly sweet scent of freshly strewn innards, causing mixed feelings of frustration and contentment. He would be damned if these rebels, or any creatures they harboured, would end his life. He was going to bring something back to High Command that was worth a damn. He had to make them believe that he was reforming, that he gave a damn about their pretentious cause. To go back now, empty handed, with a derelict vessel still floating in the void, would doubtlessly shift things away from his favour. He could recall the map with clarity. The platoon was worthless, from what he just witnessed, they were all going to die. "Worthless." he muttered again, reinforcing his thoughts. Flicking on his active camoflague, he began to move rapidly away from the scene of the carnage, nearly loping on all fours as his obsfucated image adapted to the changing scenery. Even the gore of his brethren that he passed by blended seemlessly into his camoflagued form. He moved down the memorized corridors, doing everything in his power to make it to the bridge. He had two chances to escape, if this did not turn out well. And even if he stood no chance of escape, he would blow this entire ship up before he fell at the hands of these fools who dared to torment him. If his vengeance had to only be dispensed upon these creatures, so be it. He would be hard pressed, however, to give up on attempting to survive for his more long-term goals. If he could somehow annihilate the ship -and- come up with a convincing story to tell High Command after his escape...perhaps it would be worth the potential of being seen as less in their eyes for a time. He began to question why he was so concerned in the first place. High Command was never going to take him off of his leash. Perhaps the attack had affected him more than he had thought. It would take more than whatever monster was onboard this ship to stop him from slaughtering every last person onboard. It would take more than High Command to stop him from doing it. Edited by CrypticOcean, Sep 5 2010, 04:25 PM.
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That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.~"Much discussed" couplet from a certain tome. "Hoohehehahahaha...AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" | |
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| ~Bloody Pom~ | Sep 5 2010, 08:12 PM Post #74 |
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
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The unwanted guests had no idea what kind of lion's den they'd broken into. In the dimly-lit, irradiated hallways of the ship, the hunters had unwittingly become hapless prey. Their stalker didn't need active camoflague to remain hidden in this environment; he was a natural predator... a monster unleashed by the very scientists these Pirates were working with. They were dead since the moment they'd entered the Salty Dog, they just didn't realise it yet. While someone else handled the boarding party Sy'thikrus was a part of, he got to play with the second team; and they didn't have a bloodthirsty, disgraced Hussar to cover for their incompetence. "This place is dead. We're wasting our time here, the collared beast on the other team would have been more than enough to deal with this." growled one Pirate as they moved slowly through a darkened hallway. "Strange... it's not irradiated this way. Wait, no... I'm getting something-" he didn't get to finish his sentence before a brilliant green glow illuminated the corridor, the source striking him in the chest and sending him sprawling through his comrades. The others were too distracted by his anguished roars and thrashing, rapidly dissolving body to notice that the source of the blast had vanished into the darkness again. They certainly weren't alone, and whoever, or whatever their unexpected companion was, it wasn't friendly. The bark of vicious, cruel laughter that echoed around them was a clear indication of that. ------------ "Umm... excuse me, Mr. Pirate, sir?" Fiera was apparently addressing Grifter, since she saw him as the figure of authority at the moment. She kept herself small, her voice polite, obviously not wanting to give the Pirates a reason to lash out at her. "Could I take a look at that comms console? I think I can prove that I'm useful to you." Just what was she up to? Edited by Bloody Pom, Sep 5 2010, 08:15 PM.
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"A battle for supremacy against many foes is a battle of the best kind. There are few considerations, only those concerning where to place your next shot. It is war in its purest form." - Commander Karziel, Ultramarines 5th Company![]() ![]()
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| ~Emperor~ | Sep 6 2010, 07:35 PM Post #75 |
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Fragment
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((OOC: I know killing disposal pirates is fun and all, but please don't auto them too much. Also, preserve Lieutenant Na'ruten and Officer L'anken in the upcoming posts. With that out of the way...)) Lieutenant Na'ruten had remained steadfastly calm as his platoon had proceeded through the darkened halls of the Salty Dog. He had made sure to keep all of his men at attention, though when the question of whether Sy'thikrus could split off from the group was posed, he was quick to decline. Not yet were his exact words, though they would prove to be moot in only a short while. Their first man, Ji'ralt, hadn't even had time to react before being rent in two and killed. The Lieutenant had only managed to give one order before the last man in their line met a similar fate, though not without spraying his perceived attacker with bullets. Sy'thikrus had then raced off from his side, camouflage active and presumably headed to the bridge without him. “Son of a...” he trailed off, shaking his head at the departure. Blood was strewn across the hallway, with the lifeless bodies of his comrades lying across it. And yet, the only thing he had seen of the attacker was a glimpse. The nature of it left a burning question in his head that he struggled to answer, yet he knew he didn't have much time. Were there still active ing? Movement, however, was vital. With a quick one-two step he backtracked slightly, safely outside of the cursed hall that had seen two of his men killed. After a brief moment he flicked the communicator in his helmet on, though he was by no means distracted. “L'ankan, this is Lieutenant Na'ruten. My squad has run into... problems.” ~~~~ “Quiet you two,” Officer L'ankan barked at the two complaining pirates in his squad. They had just begun to head towards engineering, and already they were complaining. I should've stuck with Zebesians for my squad, the officer bitterly thought; he was a Zebesian himself, and even the heavy radiation attachments couldn't hide the wear and tear of his armor. The hall was dimly lit - and silent as they crept along. L'ankan could easily see the thinly veiled boredom among the pirates. It was downright disgraceful. It was a change of pace, then, when the illumination of gunfire lit up the hall and promptly struck one of the pirates in the chest, sending him into convulsions as his armor and flesh dissolved away. “What the hell?” uttered one, all the while dark laughter echoed around them. ”Silence!” was all the officer could bark before assessing the damage. He was not pleased. After a cursory examination of their fallen comrade, it was more than clear the pirate was dead. “I want you two to stand ready, this time,” he half snarled at the remaining soldiers. “And keep an eye on the hallways.” Already they had lost one. They proceeded slower then, the officer sweeping the area ahead with his helmet scanner. For the most part he picked up nothing. However, just when he got a glimpse of a figure - undoubtedly the one who had attacked, the comm-link in his helmet crackled to life. It was Lieutenant Na'ruten. And what he had to say soured L'ankan's mood even more. “We've already lost one,” he spat into the comm after Na'ruten's explained his squad's situation. “However, we're continuing towards the bridge as ordered.” “As will I,” the Lieutenant spoke back, then paused. “I'm going request backup,” his voice was lower, almost ashamed. “Given the rapidity of our losses, they'll be...helpful.” L'ankan was silent at this statement, but the Lieutenant continued before it stretched for too long. “They'll probably be attack drones, as security is thin enough on the ship." "Very well," the Officer spoke back. The comm-link clicked off, and L'ankan focused back to the task at hand, thoughts churning. ~~~~ “What do you mean they've lost nearly half the squad?” Val'Azor stared at the young corporal who had been unfortunate enough to bring the news to him. “What the hell went on in there?” “Sir, Lieutenant Na'ruten thinks their losses may be due to... uh, remaining ing infestations on board the ship.” Val'Azor dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “We already did scannings for ing, and while we found some remaining signatures, they were entirely consistent with those of only a few, weak, darklings.” He paused after a moment though, thinking. “Unless of course, they've managed to shield from our detection... though that's a bit far-fetched.” “Also, he requested backup of some kind, whether that's attack drones or more troopers.” At this, Val'Azor cleared his throat, then focused on the pirate before speaking. “Very well then. Inform him that the Tikarez will initiate hyper-sensitive scannings of the left side of the Salty Dog to confirm or deny the presence of more Ing. As for backup...” the Captain paused, knowing that the Tikarez's drone supply was limited. And removing radiation from them was no easy task. “I'll have the full stock of aeromines sent, along with six crawltanks and aerial drones. That should be enough.” His last words had a hint of irritation. “Now be gone.” The corporal scurried off, leaving Val'Azor to punch out the drone orders on a keypad. ~~~~~~~ Lieutenant Na'ruten lowered his hand from the commlink button on his helmet; the silver finish on it barely gleamed in the darkness of the hallway. With backup requested and L'ankan notified...there was only one loose end. He walked past the gory hallway slowly, weapons ready; when nothing confronted him immediately, he activated the commlink one more time. “Sy'thikrus, where are you?” The words were muted, though their tone did not veil his anger. Elsewhere, one more shuttle from the Tikarez launched forth, hurdling towards the Salty Dog. Edited by Emperor, Sep 12 2010, 09:07 PM.
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| ~CrypticOcean~ | Sep 6 2010, 08:03 PM Post #76 |
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Parasite
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Sy'thikrus had made his way further into the darkness, although his vision was unhindered by the poor lighting. He slid through the corridors, flowing through the tight confinements like blood pulsed through a vein. He had slowed down a bit once out of sight from the carnage, certain that whatever creature had wreaked havoc upon the others was not in pursuit. He stood at the ready, regardless. He would gain surprise upon it this time, not the other way around. He paused for a moment to orient himself once more, when he heard his comm unit crackling inside of his helmet. Ducking into a shadowed, muffled corner, he flicked the unit on as the Lieutenant's unconcealed anger assaulted his eardrums. He was surprised that he survived the slaughter, but, then again, he was a Lieutenant for a reason. He waited for the Lieutenant to pose his question, and answered in a raspy whisper, his tone calm and measured. "I am moving in on the bridge, of course. I assume the death of two soldiers has not changed our mission, correct? I intend to accomplish it. Perhaps you will pardon my...zeal." Edited by CrypticOcean, Sep 6 2010, 08:04 PM.
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That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.~"Much discussed" couplet from a certain tome. "Hoohehehahahaha...AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" | |
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| +CEMP+ | Sep 6 2010, 10:19 PM Post #77 |
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Clockwork Master
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Alana didn't wait around for something to happen to Cottonmouth; she was busy moving about the medical room fervently and anxiously, motivated partially by fear, and partially by total curiosity. Once again, she thought on the irony of the situation in how she was captured and forced to heal a sick pirates who 'disease' was none other than the very scientific phenomenons she had hoped to get a chance to study. It was all some sort of twisted destiny, she half mused as she checked the pirates unchanged vitals before looking back at her microscope to see the progress of her 'experiment.' What she had done was relatively simple; she wanted to see how the sample of the strange bacteria she had acquired would react to her own blood being dumped into their nice little petry dish. To both her glee and curiosity that seemed to push away her fears momentarily, something had indeed happened. At first, she had saw nothing, then on her second check, she had seen the little buggers attach themselves to the blood cells like parasite. Finally, she could see the now see these cells darken like the bacteria; and more over, both types of cells were clumping together and...fusing. It was like they were all joining to form a single organism or organ. Indeed they were. Bacteria infected by some possible Ing spore...were coming to together to form a new life form? she thought. By the looks of it, they were, as she could now see form of a single, round, black tiny mass. She dare not touch it with her own fingers less it attempt to infect her too; instead, she took a small needle and poke it with it. It 'bleed' a teeny, tiny wisp of what almost looked like blood, but it also looked rather oily. Like... Alana quickly ran to get her scanner and did a quick run down with it's current data based. her hunch was right; what she was seeing was a form of dark matter coming out of it. She put together a theory on what she was seeing based on her knowledge of Ing, and what she thought up was quite...fascinating. If she was right, she was witnessing the evolution of a new organism, or something of the like. Her understanding of Ing possession was that Ing could not reproduce their own mass once inside a host; the mass would stay the same, only pressing changes onto the body and strengthening it. But this form of mass was generating Ing bio-matter, which she understood would be destroyed on contact with the 'atmosphere of this world. Of course she was aware some of them could generate their own dark matter, but from what little data that had been gathered, it could be assumed this was the more biological aspect of Ing possession, or something close to it. That, and she remembered how the Ing got here. Their world was destroyed the last she recalled, with them only able to open up tiny rifts from time to time; but they couldn't reproduce in their host, and often they would get destroyed. Could, by chance, have the Ing 'bio-mass' somehow mutated response to these 'failures,' or another reason, given that sticking to a host would eventually get it killed? Was this some 'biological' process to find some means in reproducing in this world, where, possibly, in the dark world or whatever was left, was too confined or killing them there? It was all possible, and all so fascinating despite the danger that they might represent. Evolving, biological creatures who's bodies could filled with dark matter naturally and produced it on their own without any possession, the possibilities could be end- A medical alarm blaring in her ears snapped her back into reality of what was going on, and she quickly reacted to see what the problem was on Cottonmouth. Certain organs were beginning to fail, and she was thankful the system scanners could see this happen before actual symptoms became clear, buying her extra time. And then she realized that the containment she was using on him might be pressing these organisms to form into that single ball she saw, only these were probably bigger and were bound to cause problems. She made a quick adjustment, and the field within the pirates body was made to now disperse the bacteria away from one another, though it would obviously only slow them down. But that would get her the time she needed to at least, to make a small operation or two to out the forming organism; and her scans did see a large concentration or two within his body, probably pressing down on an organ to cause them problems. However, just as she was quickly setting everything up as both her life and the pirates depended on it, she heard some explosions; and what she might make out to be gunfire. Her heart skipped a few beats at hearing this and sank into her chest astronomically; gunfire was never a good sound, especially if someone game bursting right in the middle of her operation. She looked around the rust bucket's infirmary and found the speech box that would allow her to communicate with the people at the bridge. “Hey, what's going?” she yelled over the come nervously, “It sounds like a fire fight; I should warn you that I'm about to do an operation on the captain, and if either the power goes or someone burst in here mid-procedure, the chances of him surviving are going to drop, and probably rather badly.” |
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"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death." — Monty Oum | |
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| +Aiko+ | Sep 6 2010, 11:01 PM Post #78 |
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Roffel House!
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(OOC: I wouldn't do anything fatal to named characters without permission, but killing NPC pirates is sort of necessary to get the atmosphere we need. Taking the Salty Dog? Oh ho ho, you've got another thing coming!) Vermin were a common problem on virtually every vessel, from ancient sea-faring ships to far reaching starcraft. They easily slipped in, undetected, from infested space stations or planet-side landing pads. Normally they were kept under control by periodic, thorough cleaning and spraying of the ship's interior. Food and waste storage were also vastly improved from the first pioneering ships, and vermin often starved to death before they had the opportunity to reproduce. Unless, of course, that ship was the Salty Dog. Through no real fault of Cottonmouth's, the Salty Dog had not been sanitized in over six months, and in that time they visited over fifteen space stations and three planets. Vermin were an ongoing problem, despite the zeal certain crew members had for eliminating the pests. There were the typical Terran variety rats and cockroaches, and then there were the more exotic foot-long, two-legged alien insect parasites. All were relatively harmless, although quite annoying. Although Sy'thikrus was approaching the bridge on what appeared to be the most direct line according to his memorized map, the initial ing attack had completely decimated the end of the corridor. Instead of a series of doors leading to personal quarters, there was a gaping hole that spanned five floors. It looked like a giant whale had bitten and swallowed the entire area of the ship. Debris were strewn across the floor far below, structural I-beams stacked on one another resembling brittle matchsticks. Dust was thick in the air now that life support was down, making it difficult to see detail at a distance. One thing was clear though, the distance across the gaping hole was too far to jump. A bluish light so dark it was almost invisible flashed from below, matched with a flicker of red. It disappeared almost immediately, enough to leave doubt it was seen. Dust moved strangely, dancing on air currents that should not exist in the absence of life support. Then there was a sound... a curious, scratching sound, like that of a thousand scurrying legs. Without any more warning, a swarm of abnormal black, lightly glowing parasites flowed over the ledge at Sy'thikrus' feet and threatened to overwhelm him. There had to be thousands. The horde split in two, one half attempting to drown Sy'thikrus under their immense pressure and weight, while the other half drove down the hall to attack anyone foolish enough to follow Sy'thikrus' path. |
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| ~CrypticOcean~ | Sep 6 2010, 11:49 PM Post #79 |
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Parasite
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Sy'thikrus snorted with disgust as the horde chittered at his feet, curious as to how they detected him; vermin such as these always had annoyingly acute senses. It seems that rebels were content to wallow in filth just to scurry about like parasites themselves. He ignored any response the Lieutenant decided to follow up with to his previous communication; he could wait until Sy'thikrus was done with annihilating this filth. He wasted no time, unwilling to be devoured by thousands of insects. Quickly deactivating his active camoflague, he activated his Dash Jet system, hovering just over the multitude of vermin gathered beneath him. The jet of plasma seared through them, causing their innards to press up against their carapace before detonating with a satisfying pop, filling the air with a chorus of shrieks. As amusing as this was, he did not sustain it for any longer than necessary, as he did not want to risk wasting his fuel on pest extermination. He let off one final burst of flame, slaughtering another vast wave on the creatures before positioning himself on the ceiling, clinging onto it with ease. Their numbers, while vast, certainly seemed thinner. He could not risk simply attempting to flee the horde while they were still so inflamed by hunger. He had to thin their numbers out until they were too few or convinced that he was not worth the effort. First, he activated his shoulder-mounted missile launcher, firing once each at the seperate swarms, the concussive blasts scattering any individuals that were not blown to smithereens. He began to fire his wrist-mounted weapon at the individuals that were attempting to reform, each shot killing a handful as he continued to fire. The ground was absolutely polluted by thick, viscous black blood and entrails, and overwhelmed by the bitter scent of their corpses. Not to mention the chemical scent of the plasma mixed with dessicated parasite corpses. Sy'thikrus had to admit that it was rare to have an area littered with creatures producing such astoundingly different scents of death. He began to relax as the death toll continued to increase, preventing the swarm from clambering up the ruined walls onto his safe retreat. The chittering masses were still tenacious, however, and continued to attempt to scurry towards him. He let out a deep exhalation, almost as if entering a meditative state. He fired his Plasma Cannon at the unwelcome pests, slaughtering them in vast swaths of burning, twitching carcasses. All of the creatures that had been attempting to slay him, as well as a great deal of those who had been at the tail-end of the defensive swarm, were annihilated. When the combat had ended, he became visibly frustrated once more, opening communications with his Lieutenant. "Lieutenant, you may want to prepare yourself. I have just finished an engagement with a rather large swarm of parasites. I managed to eliminate the ones engaging me, but there are more headed in your direction. The bridge cannot be accessed this way without Aerotroopers, and I cannot tell if the passage itself is blocked futher down, as visibility is too poor. I will rendezvous with you to discuss an alternate route, and to aid you in the destruction of the encroaching swarm." he stated, clacking his mandibles in an attempt to soothe his frustration. Dropping onto a graveyard of slaughtered parasites, he waded through their corpses, purposefully stomping on any twitching individuals on his way back to the Lieutenant. If he had known that being part of the attack force would consist of him meandering around, stomping on bugs, he may have not volunteered at all...then again, perhaps it would manage to be worth it in the end, when he put a blade to those parasite-habouring rebels' throats. Edited by CrypticOcean, Sep 7 2010, 07:29 PM.
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That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.~"Much discussed" couplet from a certain tome. "Hoohehehahahaha...AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" | |
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| ~The Boss~ | Sep 7 2010, 03:07 AM Post #80 |
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Native Son
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Grifter had ordered the bridge locked down the second their hull was breached. He didn't know how bad it was, but if he knew traditional Pirate methods, the damage was going to be severe. But that was the least of their worries at the moment. Right now, they needed to think about surviving. They didn't know what sort of boarding party their attackers had brought with them. It could be anything from Troopers at platoon strength to Commandos to whatever genetic abomination Science Team had dreamed up this week. All they could hear were the muffled sounds of a fierce battle raging out in the corridors. With Aiko and T'kran out there taking on the invaders, it was left to the rest of them to hold the bridge. And hold it they must. Grifter was determined that they would not have escape the Dark Ones just to be slaughtered by these dogs. Ravage woke Grace up, handing her a small bottle of stims. "This is all you get," he told her. "We need you awake and alert, not losing your mind." The girl looked up at him, nodding her head. She knew the score. She stuck a second pistol and a vicious-looking combat knife in her belt. Light, perhaps, but just what she needed for a last stand. “Hey, what's going?” came a voice over the com. The doctor, the one Grace had brought. “It sounds like a fire fight; I should warn you that I'm about to do an operation on the captain, and if either the power goes or someone burst in here mid-procedure, the chances of him surviving are going to drop, and probably rather badly.” Great. That was all they needed. "Just remain calm," Grifter replied. We'll handle it as best we can." He got on the horn to T'kran, since he couldn't comminucate with Aiko at the moment and she wasn't likely to listen anyway either. "T'kran, get to the infirmary! Don't let anything through!" "Umm... excuse me, Mr. Pirate, sir?" Grifter turned around at the sound of the voice behind him. It was the cat woman. He hadn't heard her name yet, so in his mind she was simply "Cat." "Could I take a look at that comms console?" the Cat asked. "I think I can prove that I'm useful to you." "Oh? And just what do you plan on doing now?" Ordinarily, he probably wouldn't listen to her, and likely would have had her locked in storage. But they were running out of options. If she had a solution, well then it was better than nothing. ........................ Ronnie was confused. And scared. And a bit turned on. But mostly confused. That this girl, one of many who should be catastrophical or something, was walking and talking was crazy enough. But to have her whispering in his ear and calling him David and telling him disturbing stories about how she killed him... well it was all just too much for his booze-addled brain to process. So, his instincts took over. And right now, his instincts were driving very hard, very fast in one direction. Straight towards the beautiful young woman whispering in his ear and killing him and telling him that she loved him. "Yeah..." Ronnie said. "Yeah baby, I forgive you. I'll always forgive you, no matter what. Because I love you." The next thing he knew, he was kissing her. He wasn't exactly sure which of them had initiated it, but he had come too far to worry about little things like that. ........................ "I know what you mean," Jimmy said. "Not the bathroom thing, that's really weird, I ain't touchin' that. I mean about bein' too good at your job. Ronnie, he's like that. Likes what he does a little too much. He goes overboard, ends up killin' guys he was only supposed to give a beating to. Or killin' guys over nothin'. Every crew in the history of crime has got a guy like that. Just so happens Ronnie is that guy. "Ben... he ain't that guy. At least I don't think so. But let me tell you something.... Henry, he likes Ben. I seen it in his eyes, I know that look. He used to give me that look. He sees something in him. What, I don't know. Maybe you do. But regardless of what it is, I know that Henry will do whatever it takes to help him. If that means... keeping him from going too dark, then yeah, sure. If that's what he needs." Jimmy wasn't quite sure what she meant by any of that. Come to think of it, Jimmy wasn't quite sure what any of this meant. Was this really happening? Or was he dreaming? Or hallucinating? Whatever was going on, it was clear that getting more than you bargained for was par for the course when working with these people. Based on his prior experience, he really should have known better. |
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2:55 PM Jul 11