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Star wars: Epoch (10,000 aby )


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Klannad
03.07.2012 , 07:24 AM | #11
FATHER'S HEIRLOOM (PART 3)

Terken opened his eyes slowly, his face warmed by the embers of the small fire from the day before. He had fallen asleep on the floor, using his seat-cushion as a pillow. He sat up slowly, yawned again, and scratched his stomach.

He was hungry.

And Tetinark was gone.

Terken wasn't surprised, he hadn't expected to find the Trandoshan curled up in a ball sleeping by the fire so-to-speak, but he didn't think the alien would leave the house. Which he did. Terken jumped to his feet and ran upstairs.

Going to get himself killed The young man thought to himself, and came to a panel in the wall, next to the door that lead to the small washroom. It was painted- The crest of the Urno, the boar running into the maw of the beast- He pushed the panel aside, and looked upon his father's weapons and arms.


The Urno clan, like most of the mandalorian clans, was too poor to equip all of it's members with traditional Mandalorian armor. That was usually what set the Grand clans apart from the others- The Grand clan members all wore gleaming mandalorian armor, unchanged for thousands-No, tens of thousands of years. Terken eyed his father's arms. The Urno outfitted themselves in simple hard-leggings, skin-hide leg wear that was hard on the outside, and soft on the inside. Despite it's hardness, it was able to be moved. After that, a dusky cloak was worn over the body, meant to conceal any weapons that an Urno might be carrying. On the back of the cloak, the Urno insignia was found. Lastly, a simple turban was wrapped around a metal helm, and when worn, only the eyes were visible. Terken put on all these, wrapping the Turban around his simple-metal helmet as he was taught many years ago.

hanging next to his father's clothing was the box of arms- Terken took out the box, slowly, and placed it on the ground. It was much less heavy than he remembered. The dried blood on the corners- Terken stopped his thoughts. I used this to kill them, Didn't I? A voice said inside his head. But it came from a far distance, like across the great plains he was so well acquainted with.

Get out of here, Terken thought. The invasive voice laughed. Or what felt like laughter.

To survive, we did it to survive, Didn't we? The voice sneered. He could feel it coming upon him, feel it's sinister breath as it caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise in warm protest.

You are a murderer. And a coward.... The voice echoed within Terken's mind, burned.

But then it was gone. Terken opened his eyes, he was staring at the box. He looked at the bloodstain again, but it did not invoke another visit by his other. Terken realized he was sweating, he could feel the wetness of his skin slide against the cold metal of his father's armor. He opened the box, clammy hands lifting the rusted cover, revealing three gleaming weapons.

The first were to be used in unison. A Oeta-44 machine-bolt pistol, capable of firing 30 bolts in two seconds. The next weapon was the much heavier Dragar Pulch, the weapon of the Urno. It had a muzzle that looked like a dragon's snout, and seemed twice as long. It was long, almost six inches, with a thick-wood finish. The muzzle finished in two snouts, which was where the large bolts were fired from. The gun could rip a man in two.

The last weapon was a strange sort, a fold-able spear-staff. It was fitted with a small electrical current that when activated, offered it more cutting power. It was, in Terken's opinion, his best weapon. Terken lifted his cloak, which his father called the Du'ru' , and fastened a holster around his waist, made specifically for carrying the guns. He then took the spear-staff, which was folded at this point, and carried it in his hands. He rushed down the stairs again, and was about to leave the house when he heard voices. Not Tetinark's but voices that were terrifyingly human .

No, Terken's mind blanked, fear gripping his body.

No, No. Terken already knew who it was. He had heard the voice before.

It was Cuthan Durrwise, leader and founder of the blood-hats.

NEXT CHAPTER: BLOOD ON THE CLAW

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Klannad
03.08.2012 , 07:22 AM | #12
Cuthan Durrwise looked at the hovel with little interest. He couldn't see how anything of value could be inside it, but, like his father used to say, " Never leave a home unplundered. Of course, Cuthan always followed this rule, the sage wisdom from Duhalia Durrwise, The best merceny Cuthan had ever seen, bless his soul. He held his gun in his holster, now, and wore his large hat that created ample shade. A grime covered shirt was left unbuttoned, revealing red fleshy skin. He wore black skin-hide leggings and dark colored boots, and, like all blood-hats, A splotch of dried blood was left on the center of his large hat.

Cuthan stood with six others : Duruga, Jensen, Kiliya, Broden, Nia, and Haven. He had rounded these men up from the various abandoned outposts that scattered the planet- They were survivors, like him, able to live off the land in squalor. But he gave them purpose-He gave them weapons, and most importantly, he gave them food. Haven was the latest addition to the group, he was a soldier, he said, and Cuthan believed him, having found the man crashed and half-dead on Xemenbagh. But Cuthan's father had also said to never take a man's word, but considering the evidence, Cuthan decided that he could, in this one occasion, take the word of Haven.

It was Haven who lead them here, and without him and his army training, They would have missed this little hideout. Haven picked up the subtlest clues- They had all known where the pod had fell, but upon inspection, they had found nothing inside. They all knew the strange creatures around them had been killed, but they didn't know by who or what.

Haven, however, was the one who found the tracks. Haven was the one who could see into the swamp, and somehow tell which direction the first scavengers had gone. He assumed it was a great prize they had found, for Haven said that the footprints were rushed, saying that he could tell that they had been running. When he had said this, Haven got this look in his blue eyes that made Cuthan uneasy. He had seen that look in the eyes of the predators of Xemenbagh, but never in a man. Regardless, Haven had done well, for a newbie.

Cuthan stood with them, each one taking position. Haven looked about them with a confused look on his face, to which Cuthan shook his head and pointed to the ground behind him. Haven nodded apologetically, and took up position at his side. Cuthan was annoyed that there were no windows revealing the outside of the hovel. They were seven strong, but a few well-placed bolts could easily even the odds...Against Cuthan's favor. Haven had told them there were two: A human, and some sort of alien that he had never encountered. Though when he originally showed Cuthan the alien's tracks, his mouth twisted, like he had drank something sour. Cuthan didn't know what to think of this-He appreciated Haven, but there was still something off about him.

"Draw" He said softly, and heard the slight sound of smooth weapons sliding out of their leather holsters. He drew his own, and decided the time to wait was over. There will be blood, he thought. There will be blood.

BLOOD ON THE CLAW (PART 2)

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Klannad
03.12.2012 , 06:24 AM | #13
Terken held the Dragar Pulch so close to his cheek that his face was actually cooled by the weapon's cold touch. The pistol was still in it's holster, and the staff was strapped to his back, hidden by his dark Urno cloak. He knew It was the blood-hats. He knew it was Cuthan. Terken's blood boiled at the memory of that mans disgusting face. A face of perpetual satisfaction, unjustified pride, and various unfathomable vices, each one more disgusting than the last. Cuthan was the reason Terken was forced to kill his parents. Cuthan. The name frothed and spilled over in Terken's mind, like a cup filled with bubbling ale- His pale hands turned red- He eased his grip on his gun- Closed his eyes, and then, waited. Cuthan wouldn't just waltz into the house. He would wait, thinking that Terken didn't know who was inside. Terken had one good shot with the Pulch, after that, he would have to take the time to reload. The initial shot would put the group into shock, but he would need to find cover- And fast. The only thing that was in Terken's favor was the fact that his weapons were exceptionally better than Cuthans- At least the last time he had come in contact with the Marauder, All those years ago, Watching as Cuthan ***** his mother, watching as he beat his father, and watched, as they both sat, defeated and mute, as Cuthan stole from his family. Luckily, he hadn't found the weapons. And that was all his father cared about. His father never recovered from that incident. He grew into a bitter, angry man, beating him and his mother daily, feeling the need to hurt his own family so he could feel stronger. His mother was the one who never spoke, never said anything until he had killed his father- He beat his father's head in with his own weapon-box, and his mother screamed and yelled, and came at him with hands and nails, scratching his face. He killed her then, too, and then an eleven year old Terken, with blood on his hands and face, some of it his own, some of it his parents- Dragged the bodies, one after the other, into the plains. The next day, they would be gone, He knew they would be. The scavengers of Xemenbagh wouldn't turn up such a treat.


Terken inhaled deeply, and then bent down, to the floor, where the handle for his hovel's door was. It was now, or never. I'm probably going to die, after this He thought to himself. Where's Tetinark when you need him...

But the missing Trandoshan wasn't on his mind now. He gripped the Pulch tightly, in his right hand, removing his left from the gun's muzzle in preparation to lift the door, revealing the outside world to his eyes. Now, He thought, lifting the hatch quickly, almost too quickly, the light from the sun blinded him momentarily, and he could see the shadow of a man who was still bent over. He had been about to lift the door. Terken didn't need to see the figure in clarity to know what to do next. He pointed the Pulch down at the figure, and fired. The Dragar roared, a sound that was more animal than machine, as two thick bolts ripped their way through the blood-hat's simple garments and deep into his back, cutting their way through his midsection and then out through his stomach. He died instantly.

His body slumped, and rolled halfway down the stairs.

"What the hell!? Fire! you fools!" Cuthan screamed, grabbing his own gun in the process. Terken could see now, his eyes adapting to the situation. His body adapted faster. When Cuthan ordered his men to shoot, he had already lifted the dead blood-hat and slumped him over his body, using it as a shield. He could feel bolts trapping themselves inside the man's already bloodied corpse. But this shield wouldn't hold. He threw the body, as hard as he could, to the right, and then ran to the opposite direction. Bolts whizzed past his eyes as his assailants tried shooting to where he would be Not where he was. He ran to the side of the hovel, his legs moving faster than they had ever before. He didn't take time to reload the Pulch as he ran, his left hand went for the Oeta. More bolt fire sparked by him, and he could hear Cuthan screaming orders to his men. Terken ignored all of that, his eyes set on the swamp before him. He just needed to reach the trees- He would have cover there, instead of the wide-open plain that he had left behind. His feet began to sink into the ground as he ran.

He would not die today.


BLOOD ON THE CLAW (PART 3)

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Klannad
03.14.2012 , 06:25 AM | #14
BLOOD ON THE CLAW PART III

Cuthan hadn't expected to lose his first man so quickly. For someone who dealt with death, he should be able to deal with death easily, and without emotion. But the death of a comrade, especially a death so brutal, was hard to manage. He had to draw upon the words of Papa Durrwise to calm himself.


The lust for revenge must be suppressed in battle: If you chase after it, you will die.

Cuthan inhaled deeply, and tightened his grip on his bolt-pistol as Jensen ignored his post and went running at The killer, who was dressed in strange garb that Cuthan had never seen. Jensen fired seven shots, but the bastard Blast his soul, used Duruga's body as a shield, and then threw it away violently, running around and behind the hovel.

Cuthan was no fool. "He's trying to get into the swamps! Get that bastard!"

Jensen turned at the order and gave Cuthan a dark-faced nod, and continued after the murderer of their friend. Kiliya, Broden, Nia, and Haven followed Cuthan, who walked to Duruga's corpse. He was lying on his stomach, forcing Cuthan to gently push him over, revealing a face that still had the look of surprise written all over it.

"Go after him. Help Jensen." He ordered the men without turning to face them. They moved away from him, their footsteps tracing Jensen's as they ran after the killer. Cuthan turned his attention back to Duruga's corpse. He had been almost like a son to Cuthan. Cuthan raised him, armed him, taught him everything he knew. And now, he was dead. Cuthan felt cheated, almost, and his hatred began to boil and simmer, his face growing dark and red. It was then he turned, feeling a presence, and saw Haven still looming over him.

"I thought I told you to go with the others." Cuthan said. He sounded confident, but underneath that sentence, a small sprout of fear grew. Haven looked at him, his eyes turning somehow, the piercing blue eyes becoming feral and almost oppressive to look at.

Cuthan got up from his hunkered position and faced Haven. Haven advanced, slowly, taking a step towards Cuthan.

"What the hell are you doing Haven...." Cuthan asked. He tried to put power into his voice, but at the last moment, he wavered, sounding like a little boy rather than a menacing bounty hunter.

Cuthan went back to the day they had found Haven. He was scarred, bloody, and stank, but fine, for the most part. Dried blood was everywhere, as were bone fragments. He said he had crashed, which, Cuthan believed, as there was a crashed ship some clicks away, but now, he wasn't sure. The story that Haven told him was that he was a soldier, fighting for one of the warlords, and that he had gone off course and landed, rather roughly, here.

As Haven took another step towards him, Cuthan slowly raised his gun. The doubts that Cuthan had suppressed came bubbling up from Cuthan's mind. He didn't know how, but he knew Haven was not a soldier. And something about his story was false.


Haven spoke. His voice was strained and guttural, and as his mouth opened and closed, his teeth began to turn into fangs.

"Your death will seal the fate of the future," He said, swallowing, and then continued,

"You should feel honored". Cuthan shot at Haven, shot him directly in the chest. He could hear the bones of Haven's chest bend as the bolt ripped through his flesh. But Haven did not flinch. He didn't even fall over. He laughed, and started coughing as blood dribbled from his mouth. Cuthan shot him again, but the bolt stopped inches from Haven's forehead. Haven lifted his face slowly, his long blonde hair now shining, the color of the sun. Cuthan dropped his weapon, and turned to flee. But his legs wouldn't work, and he found himself lying on the ground, trapped.

He couldn't see Haven anymore, but he could hear him, each sliding footstep, each labored breath. Then he felt the pain. The burning, shearing pain of his flesh being ripped from his body. It was his neck, the back of his neck, that was ripped off.

"Please, please, kill me!" He cried, tears streaming down his face. There was a halt in the pain, and he heard a strange sound. He didn't know what it was, until he finally released it was laughter. The pain resumed, And the weight of the fact that the famed Cuthan Durrwise was to die by being eaten alive, finally solidified itself in Cuthan's doomed soul.