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Post by Solaris on Mar 5, 2013 12:36:29 GMT -5
Char thoughtfully regarded the red-skinned Zabrak woman he'd captured trying to sneak aboard his ship. She was a Sith, or more probably one of their hopefuls - he had no doubts there, not with how well she'd fought or how furiously. As tall as he and powerfully-built for a female, she'd put Char through his paces despite his weight, strength, and experience advantage. He'd won in part because the Phoenix had intervened to help her captain, the clever and loyal AI cycling out the atmosphere in the ship to replace it with carbon dioxide - giving Char, in his breath-mask-equipped armor, a thoroughly unfair advantage.
Char held no illusions as to the security of the situation. While he had the Zabrak dark-sider secured to one of the ship's medical beds, shackled and bound with her wrists, ankles, and waist chained to the metal frame of it and on a sedative drip that should keep her from being able to call on the Force, if a bit fuzzy-headed, the big man was more than a little leery. After all, people did not get to be Sith for being easily captured, easily kept, and easily defeated.
Char stood with his thick arms folded across his broad chest, still encased in his Jensaarai armor of worked blue-grey cortosis alloy over tan krayt-hide and black armorweave. Char still wore his combat load, including a lightsaber clipped to his belt and a double-barreled blaster strapped to his right thigh. He'd removed his helmet, placing the six-horned burgonet with its draconic face-mask off to the side, revealing a scarred face that looked like it had been carved from a granite block with a few hasty passes from a vibro-saw; he could charitably be called ruggedly handsome. His flinty blue eyes studied the semi-conscious Sith, waiting on her to regain enough coherence to talk. The Tatooinian wanted answers.
The Sith was going to provide them.
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Netherworld
Novice Member
H.P. Lovecraft is my bitch.[SKB:/]
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Post by Netherworld on Mar 6, 2013 17:58:14 GMT -5
She woke up coughing, still fighting for breath that had been so cruelly taken from her mere minutes ago; or was it hours? She had no way of knowing. Opening her eyes, she found she was in no state to analyze her surroundings, let alone try to escape. After a few moments of deep, much needed lungfuls, she had calmed enough to take a good look at the situation. With blurred and shaky vision restricted to a blank ceiling and a few degrees left and right, she wasn't really in a position to estimate her chances, but she was going to try anyway. It was not becoming of a Sith, much less of her family, to give up so easily; she had already shamed her ancestors by being captured.
At the unpleasant memory, the red-skinned Zabrak shivered with disgust at herself and quickly put her shambled thoughts to other things. Say, like threat assessment. After quieting her breathing and the rustle of her robes enough to listen to the sounds of the ship, it became obvious that she was alone in the room. That, or any presence had to be either non-organic or extremely well-trained. The first option was, of course, the one she preferred, although being supervised by a VI wouldn't be half bad. If there was someone else there, alive and breathing (very quietly, though), she was screwed.
She passed her time with musings about the circumstances she had found herself in, just to do something until her drug-induced haze wore off enough for her to think clearly. Force knew when she'd drifted off, probably due to the complicated infiltration and the subsequent exhausting duel with the Jensaarai.
Vrag's eyes reopened to an unusual sight; the man she had fought before stood now just out of her reach, arms crossed and his stare boring a hole in her skull. Naturally, the Sith narrowed her red eyes and sneered at the man, showing two rows of sharp teeth. "Untie me and fight me like a man!" she spit out, straining against the cold shackles. No amount of pushing or pulling made any difference, however, and even if she'd managed to break free, she was defenseless save for the Force; and if her previous experience with the Jensaarai was any proof, she'd end up in the same situation again. No, she needed to find another way out of her predicament – preferably soon.
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Nevermore
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Post by Nevermore on Mar 7, 2013 11:45:28 GMT -5
Something had transpired, though what it was Katherine knew not. She was about to find out, snaking her way through the maze of corridors in the Celestial Phoenix. No one seemed to know what had happened, or Char had specifically instructed everyone to remain tight-lipped about the ordeal. Whatever the reason it didn't matter. The medical bay was the last place anyone had seen the ship captain heading, so that was where Katherine herself was going. There weren't that many places to check on this ship, so if he wasn't there the woman would simply move on.
Katherine rounded the corner into the medical bay, seeing her Jensaarai captain towering over a Zabrak strapped to one of the medical bay beds. Her brow furrowed as her eyes narrowed, and her hand instinctively strayed down to the blaster pistol at her thigh. She doubted there was anything to truly be worried about; Char wasn't reckless. Old habits were simply hard to break.
"What the kriff is going on here?" Katherine asked bluntly as she took a couple cautious steps into the chamber. She had dealt with plenty of Zabrak people during her time in the Force, and none of them went down easily. It would bide her well to retain her distance, and her wits. Her initial impressions of the situation suggested an interrogation, but this was unlike any interrogation Katherine had ever seen before. Was this Zabrak Force sensitive?
"Where'd you get this claw-head?" she chided inquisitively.
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Post by Solaris on Mar 7, 2013 16:34:40 GMT -5
Char relaxed his Force stealth to let her get an idea of his presence in the Force, something even her drug-dulled senses could pick up with intimidating intensity. His purpose was twofold; to comfort her ideas that she'd been bested by some neophyte, and to give her the impression that maybe talking was a much healthier course of action than trying to fight. "I did," he said. "Didn't end so well for you. Th' ship's the only reason you're alive." He smiled at her, a ghoulish expression that gave the impression he had only heard of smiles by rough description. "Y' ought to thank her."
Phoenix refrained from commenting, instead maintaining her illusion of an invisible observer rather than an active participant. It hadn't been her decision to not kill the infiltrating Sith trying to kill her Captain. The AI was devoting a few cycles to monitoring the conversation, a double-check to ensure the Sith did not attempt some Force-based trickery.
Char glanced at Katherine. "Caught a Sith infiltrator," he said. That much should've been obvious - nobody else ran around with red skin and black tattoos like that. "You're just in time for her to start tellin' what she was doing and why she was doing it."
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Netherworld
Novice Member
H.P. Lovecraft is my bitch.[SKB:/]
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Post by Netherworld on Mar 8, 2013 8:50:13 GMT -5
The words that left Jensaarai's lips stung, but like a proper Sith she was, she didn't let it show. Vrag's eyes blazed with unadulterated fury as she spat back at the rugged man. "You'll kneel at my feet before this day ends!" she hissed out between clenched teeth, buckling in the restraints, yet it was all in vain. When he spoke again, her brow furrowed in confusion, her rage momentarily forgotten. "Thank? Thank who? A ship?!" a mirthless, dry laughter resounded in the small chamber as she threw her head back. "Don't be stupid, Jensaarai," the fake smile fell off her face just as quickly as it had appeared, the red eyes now staring back at his blue ones, cold and without an ounce of mercy. Her mouth opened again, intent on further insulting her captor, when another figure appeared in her line of sight.
Great, more people to overcome, she lamented inwardly and closed her eyes for a moment, realizing how quickly her situation was becoming worse and worse. Nevertheless, she tried to keep a calm head; panicking had never helped anyone. And besides, a true Sith would never lose control. "Don't think so, Jensaarai," she smirked as she licked her bleeding lip, sucking at the succulent flesh. "And who are you, little bitch?" she added, turning her head as much as the bindings would allow. Spitting at the newly arrived woman, she grinned wickedly, showing her sharp teeth tainted with the crimson of her own blood. "I'll die before you get so much as a squeal out of me, you Bantha-faced schutta," she proclaimed with conviction, her eyes narrowing. Her pride soared high, supported by aeons of Sith heritage. I shan't fail you, father, Vrag swore in her mind, her body taut with determination.
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Nevermore
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Post by Nevermore on Mar 8, 2013 12:37:25 GMT -5
The right corner of Katherine's mouth curled up into a sarcastic half-smile, scoffing at the defiance and the arrogance both of Char's captive. Were all of the Sith like this? She had seen egotistical Zabrak before, and heard rumors of the incredibly inflated ego of the Sith before—it seemed combining the two was a dangerous avenue, but it certainly was amusing to watch.
"Be careful with your drool, neanderthal; you don't want to get a dangler and look even more ridiculous," Katherine quipped, ignoring the prisoner's question. She folded her arms and leaned against the wall of the medical bay, watching the scenario with peaked curiosity.
"Hard pressed to be appreciative for her current situation, isn't she?" Katherine asked Char, keeping her eyes focused on the Sith. She had always had her own opinions on the Sith, coming to the conclusion that she wouldn't particularly like them. The scene of unprovoked insults and arrogance only confirmed her opinions.
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Post by Solaris on Mar 8, 2013 18:50:06 GMT -5
Char was unimpressed at her fury; sound and thunder signifying nothing. The fact that she knew he was a Jensaarai, that was interesting - he could count with one hand the number of people who knew that secret. None of them were exactly Sith-friendly.
At least, they hadn't been when last he checked. Tatooine was in Sith-claimed territory, after all. "She thinks we can't do anything worse to her than her masters already have," Char remarked. He glanced at Katherine. "She's probably right, come to think of it. The Sith abuse their acolytes and ingrain in 'em a total lack a' self-worth. Kinda like military training taken to an extreme. They break 'em down, then fill their heads with nothin' but hate." He jerked a thumb towards the Zabrak on the table. "It's basically a case of, ah," he snapped his fingers, trying to come up with the term for it.
Phoenix bemusedly linked the information to his internal comlink.
"That's it. Capture-bonding. They start takin' a lack of abuse for a kindness, an' then they start getting attached to their so-called 'masters'. Next thing ya know, they're trying to make themselves into something just like what broke 'em in the first place." Char smiled wryly as he looked back at the captive Sith. "Her lack a' control tells me she's a neophyte. They sent a kid after me." His smile turned rueful, and he couldn't help a twinge of sympathy for the broken woman lying tied up like an animal and raving like a savage beast. "They either wanted her dead, or t' send me a warning. Sith don't do warnings."
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Netherworld
Novice Member
H.P. Lovecraft is my bitch.[SKB:/]
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Post by Netherworld on Mar 9, 2013 8:55:56 GMT -5
If her skin wasn't red already, it would've turned crimson from her bristling rage. "You dare!" she practically roared at the insolent pair, eyes blazing with anger and hate. But there, in the depths of the churning fires, lay another, forlorn emotion that the Sith tried to suppress with all of her might and willpower. When she already thought that the man before her couldn't stoop any lower than he already had, he valiantly made it his business to rectify her misled opinion. With every word that left that rude mouth of his, her own opened wider and wider in a silent scream of rage; so baffled was she at the lies that spilled unrestrained and unadulterated from his throat. Gasping for air, the young Zabrak closed her eyes. Her mind was still partially in a drug-induced haze and she clearly wasn't thinking straight; otherwise she'd never had reacted with such vigor, giving her captor exactly the type of response he wanted.
She ground her teeth together, the tendons in her neck straining against the confines of her tattooed skin. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Jensaarai, so I suggest you shut your trap," she finally stated, her voice now eerily calm and dripping with cold. "Never have you been among the Sith, or met any of our number out of the battlefield; if ever, that is," with every word uttered, she felt more composed and more worthy of her heritage. It did her no good to rage and waste her energy on useless endeavors, when she could use it as sparingly as possible so as to prepare for an escape opportunity that would no doubt require great exertion on her part. With flaring nostrils, Vrag continued: "I have never taken a beating without giving back as good as I got; which is, as far as I'm concerned, the principle of sparring," she smirked dryly, wishing she was free just so she could cross her arms and look down on the rugged man. "And you, sweetie?" she turned her head to the other person in the room, sneering at the brunette. "No wise, baseless, so-called facts to spew out while your friend is at it? No? None whatsoever?" she offered her a smile so fake it would've put a politician to shame.
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Nevermore
Moderator
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Post by Nevermore on Mar 9, 2013 18:13:27 GMT -5
Katherine's shoulders started quaking as she tried to muffle a rising chuckle. Soon her chuckle burst out of her mouth, a complete laugh as Vrag became even more enraged. The smile on her face was mocking at best, her brown eyes reflecting a sense of inappropriate hilarity at the Sith's predicament.
"We couldn't do worse? Char, remember who you're talking to," Katherine said as she removed one of her blaster pistols from the holster on her thigh. It twirled in a monochromatic blur on her index finger, then snapped to position in Katherine's peculiar upside down fashion. She held the blaster pistol in the reverse direction most did, using her small finger to fire instead. It was her signature style, and most people found it incredibly peculiar.
"The poor 'Sith' wouldn't be alive when I was finished with her," Katherine cooed mockingly, approaching Vrag. The tip of the barrel grazed the left temple of the woman's head as Katherine passed her by, listening to the Zabrak's unintelligible yelling.
"Fact: You're a captive, which clearly proves you're inept and incompetent," she quipped to answer the question she had been posted. "Fact: you're a petty marionette at the behest of your controllers. A tool, and nothing more. Darling, I could do this all day," the woman finished. She circled around the end of the table, her eyes shifting to glance at her ship captain.
"What do you make of this?"
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Post by Solaris on Mar 9, 2013 18:26:59 GMT -5
"Were that so," Char remarked dryly at the red-skinned Zabrak's comment about having never been among the Sith or fought them. The Sith's apoplexies of rage were getting excessive - even through the sedatives, she was just working herself up more and more. The sudden reversal was not so much startling as it was surprisingly delayed; Sith were supposed to master themselves much, much more than this woman had. Char was pretty sure Nasiri would've known how to use that, but he wasn't the master manipulator she was. "Remind me sometime, I'll tell ya about 'em. The Sith I've faced off against, I mean - you've heard of 'em." He grabbed a chair and set it down just out of reach by her bed, sitting down ass-backwards in it and folding his arms across the back of it. Char's casual behavior made it clear he was neither impressed nor intimidated by her threats and promises. "M'name's Char, by the way. Char Azerand. I assume your owners gave you that much information on me. A'course, they didn't give me a whit on you afore they sent ya to get all sabered up an' sent back in pieces - so what do I call ya?"
He paused a beat. "Or do ya want me to call you 'Red'?"
Char brushed the blaster pistol away with a frown. Idiot - the last thing he needed was someone getting shot because she felt the urge to play around with her weapon next to a Force-user. She had about the stupidest way to hold a pistol, too. Cops.
"She's someone's failed acolyte," Char said to Katherine. "If she even got that far. She can fight, I'll grant that, but raw skill's nothin' against the Force. She doesn't control the Dark Side - it controls her. I could see it when we fought. All passion, all fury, all that desperate need to prove herself." He chuckled. "Ain't yet met a Sith gal who didn't have daddy issues."
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