A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

[Praeothmin]

Ah, I knew those Capitalist-Imperialists couldn't take down a Patriot like the Major Hochstetter... :)

[sonofccn]

Another update and we check back in on alien hero Killgore whom I've mostly forgotten about.

“…greeted by the sight of it when we blew the door open, the thing perched like a fat vulture atop the bodies. Some still fresh others worm eaten festering relics, one still warm clutched in its scabby claws holding it to is parted robe and the fleshy hole in its chest. Mouthed tendril sticking out of it sucking blood from the corpse with more emerging at our arrival in expectation of being fed. Turning a shriveled, cracked face with eyes long since rotten away towards us it uttered a howl from its hanging jaw as nonhuman as it now was and reared up from its mausoleum mound revealing spider like legs protruding from its ruptured gut and the dangling vestiges of its former ones. As one we opened fire and blew that {CENSORED} back to the deepest pit of hell.” Corporal Han “Lunk” Potter describing their encounter with a high-priest of the Iron Lords in the depths of an Imperium “Bedlam house”.

New Haven-

I.So I ran Flock of Seagulls

Tearing the bone free from its graft of stubborn ligaments and flesh he drove into his mouth, jaws cracking it open sucking the sweet marrow from it. Feeling it slide down his throat helping to push the previous hunks of meat down to settle in his stomach like a weight, feeling the ravenous hunger which had clouded his brain pull away. Feeling what was between his teeth, coating its way down his throat or on his dripping hands. And he choked, coughed and spat what remained back over his former meal drawing up away over the brick wall of the alley. Turning away from the splayed body, from her, Deran made off. The night echoing with the rapid hammer falls of his feet, shadow racing across the flickering blur of the cityscape.

Running away from what he did, as if any haste of flight could carry him away from the grisly deed, alternating retching unsuccessfully to dislodge the repast against his body wishes and sputtering through incantations and charms beseeching forgiveness to the deity of his world for his transgression. Tears forming over his eyes, turning the already surreal city he raced through into a haze, as he sobbed his plea even while a taunting voice in the back of his head sneered at his efforts. Reminding him in acidic tongues that the Haunter of the night had no place at the crossroads of the infinite, made now only for the choking shadows which weeded their way through the dreary buildings and gnarled factories. A living stain banished to wander forever chained to the corporeal but not part of it, an empty shell.

That was his fate now, the voice inflicted as Deran crashed through overflowing garbage cans spilling them or scattered the carpet of oily rats who had been feasting upon them, and his now pious chanting but ash in his mouth. And so he ran, cried and howled beneath the uncaring, the judgeless twinkling eyes of starlight. Eon old artifices they watched indifferently to the mosaic which had began its weave millions of years before and would continue for several more seeing the rise of great empire, worse horrors and deeds both noble and perverse. They his only witness to his splashing through a public fountain, turning its once crystal waters a dark crimson, cupping handfuls in his stained palms and throwing them into his face. Letting the cold embrace wash away at the stringets of gore and viscera which clung to him, gulping mouthful and sputtering with it. Washing out the taste, still so captivating even enthralled in horror as he was, and trying futilely once more free himself from that which hung heavily in his belly. Denied he shambled out of the water, cursing his god and the leering stars, and collapsed on the heels of the gaudy statues the Natives had populated their city with.

His body exhausted threatening to shut down but other parts rejuvenated, imbued with life and vitality. Essences of which he’d stolen from the robber, the thief, he realized with a mewling croak phantasmal images of the feeding searing before his orbs again. And like this, on the whispers of shadows, she came to him. Feeling her touch on his side before he heard her, at once pulling from the cool of her touch flopping backwards and dragging himself towards the rim of the gurgling fountain. A mumbled prayer dying in his throat half spoken as he looked up at her standing posed beside the statue one hand resting against it, beholding those dark eyes and those scarlet lips pulled into an inviting smile.

“If your looking for absolution of your sins…he probably can’t help.” She said with a little laugh thrumming her fingers against the side of the silver and bronze figurine before slowly striding towards Deran.” If you want to understand it through I might be of service.”

“Haunter!” Cosa managed to curse wrapping an arm around the edge of the fountain and dragging his body half over, submerging it in the circulating waters.” Blasphemous monster!”

It was a feeble attack at best, his former life and strength suddenly escaping him in her presence, a throaty croak of a backlash voiced with more trepidation than confidence. But still he’d hoped to inflict some minor victory, some chink in her armor to mark his passage into her evil web only to see her smile grow wider. To see it part and hear the chiming of angelic bells that was her laugh.

“Do I look like a monster to you?” She whispered bending towards him to cradle a hand softly against the side of his head, using it to direct him towards her vivid red lips as she continued to speak those hushed words.” Could I be a monster?”

“Haunter. Haunter of the night.” He answered when the embrace broke fighting the spell it left in him, such reserves dwindling rapidly.” Feeder of corpses…the hunter of the innocent.”

“Is that what you call us where you come from, you Star-People?” She asked with another laugh, another sliver pure beauty.” How intriguing but inaccurate. In your heart you already know its true, beyond the physical need of nourishment a living vassal adds so much that is needed. You remember the rush of blood as his still beating heart forced it into your mouth? The salty tang of his skin as it was carved apart by you? That boutique of fear he reeked of…oh no we are more than mere corpse-eaters.”

She leaned to kiss him again but he stopped her, pushed her away while he rose himself over fully into the fountain. Splashing its muddied waters as he shambled towards its center, grasping its spraying spire for support as his bout of strength failed him. Replaced with a longing that made him turn his head towards the pale vixen who all but glided across the water’s tide with nary a ripple.

Some analytical part of his mind trying to analysis the drawing he felt to her, the magnetic pull her eyes had but it was soon swept away as she once more guided her lips to his. The very planet seeming to cease it’s spinning until she broke it, directing with a tender touch his head to the starry nightscape above.

“ I saw stars just like now on the night I first killed, I felt your exhilaration and your revulsion. Perhaps even more deeply.” She whispered sweetly like honey dripping in his ear.” Oh how I cursed them, them and every deity that might still crawl across the Earth’s surface, for my fate. Can you imagine it? Me, disheveled and wailing?”

“No.” Deran breathed back still captivated by the canvas Slytherina showed him.

“But I was. I was afraid, frightened, and most assuredly lost. And yet as I learned we are not unlike those distant stars.” She purred.” Ancient. Unaging. The guardians of history. They are a primal force beyond reasoning, who bow only to cosmic energies on par to their own. They live the gilded path, superior and distinct to the rabble which orbit them. And in turn so do we to the common creatures we share the universe with.”

“But that man…I…he…” Cosa whimpered faltering for words, not really wanting to voice the dark impulses for fearing doing so would grant them further solidification within him.

“Does the farmer weep for the lamb he slays? The lion it’s prey? To live is to sustain one self on death, such is the merciless order of the cosmos.” She reasoned with force but also with tones which smothered and soothed Deran.” And so do we upon those of our sustenance.”

Whispering other things as he brought his head down low from the starry heavens, their lips touching once more, hinting at the great secrets which awaited him, of the verdant cult of Tam-Rhaba who worshipped the eternal Haunters of the night, and teased of the distant years when gods who names should not be spoken had roamed the Earth birthing the Immortals into the world. Saying many things as she guided him away from the fountain back to the apartment, things to entice his mind and harden his heart against those who were not of the blood. And he listened…

INTERLUDE:

Krona, Deniero-

II.The mob rules Black Sabbath

Finishing materializing the cloaked and hooded hybrids were ushered into the streets by their superior’s horn rimmed whip cracking over their heads and their own senses reveling in the aura of the burning city. The sweet musks desolation, the wafting aroma spilled blood and the tang of flesh pressed against hot coals, invitingly drawing them out into the street. Greedily fanning out to search through the surrounding rubble and burned out buildings for any survivors when the ore puller swung onto the street. Engine gunning as its horned like beak of chrome plowed through the flashing warning barricades the local constables had erected, crushing it beneath its thick shock absorbing tires, and into the slobbering crowd of hybrids. Smearing them into one long multi-colored line of ichors but before one, a gnarled and hunched being with feathery fingertips, squeezed the trigger on his flare-cannon. Igniting filament, propelled by a surge of electro-magnetism, shooting out splashing across the side of the puller. Against military spec titanium mesh it had barely left a singe mark but the puller was a glorified cargo-hauler and the edge split open in a running seam. The tire rupturing, igniting flinging shards of hot bubbling rubber, kicking the puller to the side off of the side of the street onto the sidewalk and into a building’s corner which the hard layered steel prow of the truck offered up only slightly more token resistance.

Fuel and coolant spilling out on the ground as the hauler’s side panel was pulled open, Thyde leaping out through the smoke to shoot the first of the next batch of hybrids appearing from the transponder beacon. His targeter on his helmet lighting up like crazy with potential threats and weapons locks not only for himself, sprinting forward over the ruinous street, but for the rest of the convoy which passed. One of the other pullers slowing and pulling to the side, bouncing up over the curb, with other Defenders clinging off of, to take up the civilians pouring out from the doomed transport. Half the warriors dropping off to help haul them out like sacks of grain while the others began opening fire on the surrounding vantage points.

“Where are you Midas? We are in a class ten dreck here!” Thyde, dropping beneath the clutter of broken concrete to avoid the close contact slash of a thermal beam, demanded of the one and sole tank they’d collected for their mad dash to safety.

The rest either taken out by contact explosives, in some cases delivered by captives, abandoned when they’d expended fuel or ammo or had already been recalled to the dwindling security zones. Withering rings of unmolested Trade territory the inbound bombers were to avoid, not the glorified hoppers which dropped a fiver on a street corner or let loose a quiver of seeking missiles but the Stratos dropping block-rippers and incinerators. As well, Thyde darkly knew, a select few in a holding pattern would be carrying fusion warheads once a Cleansing was greenlit.

“On the corner of Profit and Gains still, blood suckers blew down half a building complex to stop us.” Crackled the Midas commander’s gruff voice, tense and perforated with the clang of his tank’s seventy-five belching shells into the alien rabble.” The filth is throwing what seems like the entire hybrid army at us, afraid we can’t make it to the party at the moment. Give our condolences.”

“Consider it done.” Thyde answered, breaking the connection, removing the head of the largest mutant and, scurrying out of the way before the weapons of the rest found him, sending a jacketed bolt through the beacon it self.

The sophisticated triangulation pod going up in a blaze of sparks like any two bit electronic as the high velocity slug plied through it and vanished into the broken ground beneath. Which left only about a billion more within the confines of the city, the Defender noting as he swept himself behind a chunk of façade dropped from a building above. Catching from the corner of his eye or on his still madly beeping Targeter leering forms pressing out of blasted out windows, jagged scar like fissures contact bombs had cleaved through the edifices or the blood splattered doorways themselves. Drawn like the addict to his morphine towards the specter of combat, the arena of spilled blood.

He just had to make sure the blood spilt was there’s. Hearing the hiss of heat on warping concrete trail away from his ablative cover, already crumbling from the sudden shifts, he leaned back out letting his finger tap on his rifle’s trigger. Running into the spurting mists which enveloped their screaming bodies, weaving between outstretched chitin claws and webbed hands, as a pair of missiles from opposing arcs swooped down and collided on the wedged façade. Fist sizes asteroids lapping at Thyde’s heels as he dove through the mutant’s, those not fatally wounded by his barrage claimed by the hurled detritus with scale wrapped skulls collapsing inward or searing spikes ramming through their mushy chests.

Hitting the ground Thyde rolled carrying himself further away, thankfully as always for the slim protection his tactical vest provided from the scatter shot, hitting the edge of a deserted stoop and rose to one knee with his back to it. Snapping first one way and the other, twin shots mirroring each placement as did the two bodies which fell from their respective windows with primed missile launchers. More still trying to acquire him, his Targeter reading their webbing of their sensors like a searchlight, through a distant concern watching a hunting pack blast an entrance out through the face of the building complex opposite of him. No concern for the tremors which rippled upward through the abused frame of the edifice, no care for their brethren even at the sounds of upper floors squealing in protest as they cracked and plummeted to the next level. Only the thought of the kill which the Defender sought to grant them cradling his pulse rifle up against his shoulder before the heathen freaks could turn and chase after the convoy gave his firing stud another tug. To the soft clicking of the weapon and his belated recognition of one of the chirping tones and flashing symbols on his Targeter.

“Dreck.” He cursed, hearing the scrambling of legs that were not legs on the doorsill behind him, snatching another magazine off of his armor.

Feeling the hot breath of the mutant horror, presented so close to an offering, as it scrambled forward to take him in savage physical combat. Thyde’s sensory feelings filling with the oily musk of the things pores as the Defender threw himself to the ground, rolling over catching blurry sight of the leaping thing above with the glinting iron headed ax. Knowing he’d never reload in time even as he continued jamming the cartridge into the weapon, blinking as something intersected and knocked the hybrid back onto the stoop with its stunned peers. Jets of hot black blood shooting out marking its presence after it vanished from Thyde’s field of view, the warrior sitting tracing where it went in time to catch the so streaked Killgore unload a ripper into one of the mutants while he carved open with a thickly bladed sword the other from its shoulder nearly to its opposing thigh or near equivalent thereof.

“Wondered when you’d get here.” Came Thyde’s clipped but relieved reply, the Defender already turning his attention across the courtyard of rubble.” Coming to steal the glory after I weakened them.”

“You know how it is with fans.” Killgore remarked of the mutants he’d lead away from the convoy as he tossed a grenade through the building’s door.” They all want a piece of you.”

The hovering robotic cameras swirling around his body catching both his tightly sprung leap and the resultant explosion in flawless crystal clarity while distantly in the Atune’s ear Sammus gushed lovingly that it would included in the upcoming trailer for the mission.

“I’m thinking Deniero: The Bloodening or maybe Deniero: Doomsday Calls.” His manager continued trying to choose the right name for the newest escapade, the hardest part of the job as he would frequently say, as Killgore landed absorbing the force of it and sprung upwards clubbing a mutant’s face with his depleted ripper.

Leathery flesh parting under the blow, peeling away to the rigid bone structure which shattered like glass into grimy flakes. Specs which clung to the First Atune adding to his demeanor as he charged across catching the tip of a flare-cannon with the nose of his sword flipping it away from him. Shifting and driving the hilt of the alien blade up towards the pus dripping fiend’s face, a single murky eye widening in its socket before the ivory spikes of the handle impaled it.

“Both sound good.” Killgore said noncommittally yanking the weapon out and snaking his other arm around the mewling thing’s bleeding head and neck silencing it with a hard twist.

Ripper falling with it to the ground as he snatched the flare-cannon from the being’s dying grasp, wrestled it up and swung it across the advancing ranks setting them alight. Dropping at the last moment to escape their fiery embrace and diving past through gap Thyde had cleared for him. His fellow squadmate’s gun a friendly and constant noise at his back, slugs wheezing past him faster than anything but his targeter could track not just for the immediate hybrids but stemming the tide pouring out from the blast crater.

“Come on Baby, Sweetheart what is that? I’m asking for honest feed back and I get that? They both sound good? I pour my heart out to you and you say they both sound good?” His manager continued to complain, lost amid the noises of sizzling flesh and the clipping of bone as Killgore made his way through.” You know your right, I can do better. Too derivative absolutely, this is a stand alone mission deserve something better. Something with more flash. Something to grab them in their seats and shake them.”

Again the First Atune could only mouth empty platitudes to the droning voice as he scythed towards the blown entryway, hacking and stabbing trying to get within reach to lob an explosive through of his own. With luck bringing the rest of the building down atop of the lecherous vermin’s heads and at least clearing the adjacent areas and give both he and Thyde time to break for the convoy. His camera-bots clinging around him, maneuvering through the lopping severed limps or burning bodies never allowing a second of the frantic action to escape notice.

So when one ceased its erratic orbits and rose up above the bloody fray the First Atune immediately felt it in his bones, fishing a Trader like pistol off of a many tentacle thing he’d half crushed he finished it off with a head shot and turned his attention towards the scorch marked edges of the blown hole. Not at the swift, green skinned things that scampered out wielded scimitars in each of their scaly hands but the slower mass their drooped and knelt for, rusty chain mail clicking against equally as hard flesh knotted with scars and red rimmed lesions. One hand nothing more than a fleshy fin which had been ritualistically carved and cut sharpening the thick cartilage and rudimentary bone underneath into a razor’s edge. The other was more Trader like but stretched from its immense torso nearly down to its feet, skin taunt and bleeding from the engorged muscles beneath it. In thick fingers nearly too big for it carried a Vraen emplacement gun “enhanced” with links of iron chain and a pick ax to create an goring spike to its underside. A trail of bullets leading up over its colossal shoulder to the field box it had strapped to its back beneath the jutting dorsal fin which like its dagger pointed head lined with a gory smile of steak knives showed dominantly one half of its parentage. Cold, black eyes gazing down past its devoted underlings to the viscera drenched Killgore, mouth stretching open revealing the rows of jagged fangs it possessed and spoke in a voice as wet as the ocean from which it hailed and as deep.

“ I am Krahs the strong!” It roared stepping out into the open.” Worlds tremble at my approach, civilizations immolate themselves upon breath of my name, and whole histories turn to ash with my passing. I offer the quick release of death to all who seek it and promise of unparalleled agony of those who don’t.”

“He’ll do.” Sammus mused looking the creature over on the video-link.” Get a rewrite in we might be able to swing two features, maybe three. A whole ballad of you against Krahs the savage supreme commander of the hybrid army.”

“Fine, good. I’ll kill him while you work that out.” Killgore mumbled to himself raising his pistol to fire at the hulking giant.

[Praeothmin]

And?

AND?

AAAAANNNNNNNNDDDDD?

How can you possibly stop the Killgore-y fun at that moment?

I would never leave you hanging like that...
Ok, maybe I would...
Ok, I have a few times, but still...

And the Vampires, where are we (I say "we" because we're part of the story now, too engrossed to read it distantly) going with this?

Oh, by the way, very nice (as If I needed to say it)... :)

[sonofccn]

How can you possibly stop the Killgore-y fun at that moment?

Well I just didn't "feel" the passion or energy I thought such a battle required. I of course blame Breetia. He bleeds so much "time of champion and heroes" he can normally sustain my story for a dozen cycles. :)

And the Vampires, where are we (I say "we" because we're part of the story now, too engrossed to read it distantly) going with this?

Well "going" implies much too much coherence on my inane ramblings but the Vamp's goal is to place for the Greater German Imperium an inside man into Krevin's fleet. Through of course I leave it to you on where Deran's true loyalty will lay. But like many of my plot points I know where I want to go but can never seem to quite get there.

[Praeothmin]

Let me give you some quick advice:
-Ask yourself what's your goal for a character/situation;
-Write down a few sentences answering the question;
-Write down a few ideas, like "Getting SSD", or "Finding LightSabre" that you wish to see in your story;
-When you think of the story in your head, select one encounter (ofr example, my first encounter with Riddick) and flesh it out in your head.

How you get to there will come naturally after that... :)

[sonofccn]

Okay hope this makes up for me skimping last time. Champion First Atune Killgore against Champion Slayer Krahs in a battle for an entire world.

“…Diabolus Aqua perhaps more than any other intelligence encountered by man posses such purity of purpose. Tailored not such as to survive the erratic impulses of the present, as we are rewarded, but engineered for the race as a whole. Not only in physical prowess or endurance, much gossip is slung of Diabolus specimens “resurrecting” on the dissection table, but the parasitical manner in which it will encode its cellular structure and maintain it in offspring. Homo Aquatis as it was labeled when discovered in the ‘20s, erroneously believed at the time to be a divergent link in our evolution, a type of chimera which if intermixed with another of almost any percentage has the possibility of siring offspring “unmolested” by the host genealogy…” Excerpt from Doctor W. Herbert essay “Driving Forces and Ultimate Principals”

Krona, Deniero-

I. Think I've done this one already but what the hell. For whom the bell tolls-Metallica

With a metallic hiss of combusting exhaust the slender tipped dart sneezed from the gun’s muzzle rushing to greet the large hybrid’s face. The most minute of distances even according the beast’s unnatural size but an impossible one, its pointed leering face swishing to the side of the missile path letting it vanish into the building behind it’s stock. As it did the one which followed, its dagger prowed head quite elastic and pliable despite the thick chords of muscles in it, dipping to its side and in response slashed is emplacement gun across in a crude but inefficient manner twitching a fat finger over the trigger once.

Responding the grubby but well engineered weapon’s barrels revved to life, spinning once before belching a bullet from each of the cycling muzzles. Score of bullets pelting the air and ground where the First Atune had stood, body in motion since the first shot. He instead rushing towards one of the green skinned things, scaled horrible things with squat heads and over muscled upper snouts and diminutive lower jaws, which knelt on the side Krahs bowed. The underling’s eyes snapping up from the cracked and stained ground at Killgore’s approach and drew up its curved swords as it unarched itself but for these actions as well should have been frozen. The Atune’s first foot striking the beast squarely in its face while his next cycling over the first gaining traction drove down into its back. Springing from that spongy bedrock up over the giant’s arm still trembling from absorption of the large gun’s powerful force towards its face and neck.

His sword extending from him in a powerful stroke posed for either the hybrid’s elusive head or if he yet again missed to cleave the emerald green iron through its thick chest, watching the muscled arm beneath him which he sailed over too fast to be blocked but the grayish-white blur which bisected him from the other side. His breath robbed from him with its passing taking with it the strength of his attack, gravity alone not hard hewn muscle propelling it the last of the way towards the hybrid’s face which it avoided the same as the First Atune’s free falling body by taking a half step backwards.

Killgore landing at its feet, feeling the first budding flames of pain spread across his chest, and laying there choking to breath. His skin matting with the discolored chalky dust of shattered concrete his landing had kicked up, blood leaking from between the halves of his tactical vest and the ruby droplets oozing from the sharpened fin the hybrid rose to its lipless toothy face to inhale from. The odor of blood intoxicating as it was to both of the being’s disciples who crowded over his body waiting for permission to release the rest of it.

“By the Exalted! Killgore baby, sweetheart! He barely grazed you! Get up!” Sammus cried so loudly into the First Atune’s earpiece, through it was like a whisper to his mind, as the underling he’d kicked beseeched Krahs for the blessing.

“I’m your manager and you got to listen to me, you gotta get up.” Sammus continued over the cackling answer the giant hybrid gave, the smaller one granting a quick sign of respect before diving down to split open Killgore’s underbelly.” Dreck! Okay…I’m coming for you. Just hang on.”

Making it to a crouch before the whistling shell tore through one side and out the other of its head spraying the leader being in the confetti of its mind, a familiar cry piercing through to the First Atune along with the sounds of Sammus scuffle with the Defender assigned to watch over him. Pungent curses coming through his radio of both combatants Killgore shifted and craned his bleeding face up behind him towards Thyde, scrambling beneath cover belting and clubbing lesser hybrids who poured from the rubble for him, and then with an oath of his own rolled to the side across the stabbing terrain just ahead of the giant’s foot which came crashing down where’d he’d been.

Hitting the still warm body of the slain mutant, feeling his sink looking for purchase into the mushy remainder of its skull, he swung himself over onto its back once more raising to half knee and liberating one sword from its green hand. Bracing it before him looking up at the large hybrid and its disciple, the latter in turn also looking up at its master asking with a glance for permission that once granted it took of on its long powerful hind legs towards its brother’s killer leaving the giant and the Atune to themselves.

“Maybe you’ll be sport yet.” Its throaty, blubbery voice crooned before twisting its gun arm to point the pick’s edge at the Defender letting its implication sink in for merest moment then thrusted.” But then…perhaps not.”

The steel tip deceptively traversing slow enough for Killgore to have raised his sword against but didn’t, no steel or flesh borne to survive such weight once unleashed and instead at the last the First Atune leapt to the side. Letting the jagged point pass cleanly and catching the blunt, flat end of the gun casing which knocked him from his feet but didn’t fling him across the makeshift arena as the giant expected. Twisting its head panning over the broken slabs of concrete it had expected Killgore to be dashed upon before lowering it back towards its weapon and the hand which reached over grabbing another fistful of the surrounding chains. The Atune pulling himself up with it, unspooling the crudely wrapped links, before draping himself over the top of the heavy gun to avoid the grayish death of the sharpened fin as it scythed past and springing for the last to strike. Rearing up he swung it first through the heavy bands which fed the emplacement gun itself which the thin but sharp edge cutting through it with a clink and then plunging the scarred face of the blade through the engorged arm itself. Parting through coat of mail like skin but on the tightened muscles beneath the cheap metal warped and buckled becoming embedded, the weapon left transfixed as the Atune dropped himself towards the ground. Grabbing first another fistful of chains and with its unraveling the worn and burnished handle of the pick ax itself, he fell beneath the fin’s return in a blow that would have cleaved his skull landing at the hybrids feet.

Shrinking down onto his feet and hand in a crouch then springing in the time it took for his abortive gasp of breath through his burning chest, sprawling and flipping around the beast’s craggy knee it rocketed forward then overtaking it escaping the shadow of its arm and gun it brought after him. Listening to the solidly built mutant’s muscles and bones tweak and crack as it leaned into the attack followed by a whistling shriek as it curved and swung the sword side of its body, Killgore’s already loose helmet vanishing as he flattened and dove once more to the unruly surface. Jagged stones biting down into his chest, feeling the puckered wound across it shift and stretched as tucked into himself, rolled with it and righted himself beyond the reach of the organic blade. Sammus’s familiar, energetic voice blaring through his embedded radio piece on his unblemished returned to a running stance reminding him of the robotic cameras which still hounded him capturing it all.

“You’re still ticking kid! Baby, sweetheart, buddy I could kiss you. You’re alright aren’t you?!” He gushed as the First Atune sprinted towards the slabs on which he would have been broken.

“I’m still breathing, if that is what you mean.” Killgore wheezed, voice breaking, as he leapt for the stones.

Watching as well the hybrid’s shifting form, retracting the whittled sword-arm away pointing it towards the sky and raising the other from the rubble’s surface. Spying the muscles in its hand flexing, the tightening of its stub like trigger finger.

“Killgore, baby, you are absolutely wonderful, superb. Even had me going there for a moment but you pulled out of it and bam! Crowd is going to eat that up. But excuse me for a second…yeah sorry, here’s your gun back. What are you doing? Go protect something or other I’m having a discussion with my client…sorry about that where were we? You death defying , Exalted blessed come from behind victory against the overgrown fish face.” Sammus belted in his energetic and lurid manner while the Atune leapt to one of the slabs, clutched at it like a dangling night-reaper and then flung him away curving back on his path.

Followed by the omnipresent camera-bots which captured his run and the explosion of concrete in Krahs short but powerful weapon’s burst, vaporous cloud springing across the slabs as they crumbled, prompting another joyous holler from the watching Sammus. Heaping further premature congratulations on Killgore as he sped past and behind the giant hybrid, bowing beneath its arm as he circled back and plunged the pick ax’s head through its center. Feeling its wooden handle first bend then break under his grasp as it pierced through, hot blood seeping out from between the tang of metal as he continued past. Head darting up checking to see the sword-arm twisting around for a strike or for the beast to spin and use its arm and gun as a bludgeon. Missing therefore the back of the heel of the crudely forged shoe it wore lifting up in front of him until it was too late.

“You’re spry for a little thing.” The mutant remarked kicking Killgore.” Not since the gluttonous avatar of Regnuh have I been vexed so but no matter. As I ate that god’s bloated heart so shall I yours.”

The sole of the shoe was little more than iron lump hammered and beaten into a rough shod lending it great strength and even grazing across his moving form Killgore felt something break. Things cracking from within his chest, felt his organs shift as he half stumbled backwards through the opening in the side of the building. Blood rushing up through both his feeding maw and speaking slit as he managed to evade the bone-sword of Krahs as the giant spun on his heels and less majestically as it stepped after him thrusting the blade like a spearpoint. Feeling it bite into his side, feeling his cloth and skin tear transforming his entire side dark and slick. Growing worse with the weapon extracted out, raised above the beast’s head where ruby stringets rained down upon it, freeing the wound completely.

Scarlet rivers forming down the leg of his pants as the First Atune weaved beneath the stretching hand of the hybrid and, seeing the bone-blade whirl around to taste of him again, leapt backwards from it. Losing his footing and balance when he struck the huddled backs of a pack of mutants greedily feasting on the bodies of their fallen siblings, all looking up on their haunches from their unsavory meal at the bleeding prize which had fallen into their midst’s. The largest of the number, an insectoid like thing with too many legs poking out from beneath his soiled robe, taking advantage of it the succulent windfall by first rising up on its segmented legs and, shoving aside its fellows with similar notions, scuttled towards the prone Killgore. Reaching as it did a mottled sleeve out towards him, the frayed end parting to reveal a scabby pincher like claw it sought to close and sever his throat with.

“Killgore, I appreciate what your trying to do but I know people and trust me its too soon to put you in danger again.” Sammus critiqued the Atune as his hands clasped on either side of the rough, scabby wrist and his foot found the thing’s shoulder.” They’ll never buy it, not in a million.”

“Duly noted.” The First Atune grunted over the snapping crack as he twisted the pinchers to the side and, as the owner bellowed out in pain, turned them around and drove them into its more fleshy torso.

Well soiled robes transforming to a darker shade as its ichors bled out, Killgore kicking the thing over as he scramble away from it onto his feet. Fists balled for the remaining mutants who cloistering together with malice glowing beneath the cowls of their hoods looked down at their slain leader and then to the wounded Defender. All reaching the same conclusion and setting forward over the body in unison when the chest of one erupted in a brackish spray, its cries dying stillborn as it was flung up into the air dangling above the mighty Krahs whose cutting through caused the rest of the mangy pack to scatter to the winds. Running as fast as their misshapen legs could carry them as the giant snagged the side of the still wriggling corpse with its jaws ripping the body off of its natural blade with a ripping sound.

“I will not be denied your death.” It bellowed releasing the body to the floor, crushed meal beneath the weight of the hybrid’s passing, continuing after Killgore who backed towards a half demolished staircase.

II.ManoWar-let the gods decide

“You speak of being denied what you haven’t earned.” The Atune decried fighting with a shake of his head the spots swirling in his vision as well as the urge to lean against the broken banister of the collapsed staircase.” Here I stand, come get me bright boy.”

In a burst of vitality he didn’t feel as he said those words Killgore straightened his body out and raised his fists towards the powerfully built hybrid consciously aware of the swirling cameras and what they very well might record. But they’d get a show regardless he swore to the Exalted Treasurer, steeling his body as with a deafening roar Krahs broke into a charge.

A feral cry escaping past the mutant’s blood soaked teeth it shrank the separating distance in the breadth of a heartbeat, moving almost as a blur despite its greater bulk. The Atune more sensing than seeing the balled fist like a wrecking ball which sought him, bowing beneath the muscled arm which cratered into the loose pile of masonry. Dust and detritus billowing up from it, coating both of them, stinging eyes and coating to slick perspiration as the hybrid drew back its hand and Killgore continued past underneath. Choking to breath, eyes watering, he leapt over the protruding bar of the pickax still lodged where he’d slung it and grasped at the rough, biting loops of rusty chainmail the mutant wore scrambling up its side. Evading to the side the hacking slashes of the sword-fin which clanged against the metal sheathing the beast’s expansive back the Atune reared up and plucking a compression grenade from his satchel curled his fingers around it for extra heft as he smashed it into the side of the animal-man’s head.

The first blow tarnishing its silvery-gray sandpaper like skin, the second mashing one of its coal black eyes with the third spraying blood as he broke through the first few rows of barbed teeth jutting from the beast’s raw, pink mouth. The fourth, to which he’d shove the explosive safely inside the gullet of the mutant and pull the pin, never coming as what felt like steel beams clenched around his arm and shoulder, digging in through sinew and bone without resistance and from that purchase twisting him from his perch. The glee of Sammus’s exhilaration turning to an anguish cry lost to the red haze which shot through the First Atune as he spun away, capturing fleeting images of the giant turning in his direction before he met an unmovable force and stopped with painful abruptness. Only then did the scarlet fugue abate, allowing the searing white pain of bones buckling within him and organs squishing to come to the fore. The added injuries sustained in his plummet from the wall to the ground not even felt so inconsequential, numbed similarly to what he knew he must have been feeling when he pushed himself back up in what felt like thrice standard gravity. Around him the cameras spun recording the twitching of his bloodied, graven face, the shaking of his knees and the loosely hanging lump of flesh in which one of his arms had become. Their lenses also recorded Killgore’s step towards the mutant and his voice, clogged with blood as it was.

“Dreck you and your whole drecking race of inbred mutant spawn.” He cursed hoping he wouldn’t pass out, vision clouding over despite his best efforts.” Is that all you got?”

“Do you think I missed little one?” Krahs sneered spitting out loose fangs amid a shower of dark ichors.” I could have felt your head break inside my palm but I will EARN my victory as you demanded. No quick release.”

“Better hurry then you drecking mutant.” Killgore spat staggering and collapsing onto his knees where he leaned choking and spitting up dark crimson to the ruined floor before finishing.” Because in a minute this whole place is going to go up from a bombing run keeping you from taking your reward.”

“As it is willed. The Progenitors have decreed this city to be taken to the heel and we shall obey.” The mutant boasted to the prostrated Defender, teasingly holding itself at length waiting for some sign of recovery to creep back into the man’s body.” If fated I shall perish holding your broken body aloft amid my coming triumph, what better ushering to meet my ancestors could I ask? The slayer of champions at last perishing in the slaughter of one final world’s champion.”

Capturing the hybrid’s outburst and following laughter the hovering cameras then panned to the Atune’s form struggling to crane his head up from the floor, resting his chin against it as he stared blinking out across towards the taunting monster and then giving voice to dank oaths rose his body up once more. The entire thing sounding like a wrecked puller best left to the junk heap and feeling several light years worst but he balanced himself on his feet none the less finding the strength to raise his good hand out towards the giant. Cupping it and turning it towards himself as he cleared his lungs with another cough and wheezed out a verbal spar.

“Then come on then, I think I hear the bombers playing our number. Let us dance bright boy.” He hissed opening and closing his hand gesturing for Krahs to bring it.

If hearing the shriek of turbojet engines that Killgore imagined might be grating on the edge of his hearing or not the mutant dutifully thumped his iron hard fist against his chest in a form of salute and with a cruel cackle rushed to embrace the bedraggled Defender once more. Gobbling the distance between with all the predatory gluttony of his parentage, from both sides knowing of the fabled repasts of Ravagers, so that it appeared more to teleport in front of the Atune rather than cross the interlaying medium at all. Sword-arm no slower cutting out a ballet of symbols and shapes through the air in a prepared sequence that would have seen Killgore’s body filleted. As it was three more tears across his flesh were added to his tallies, too slight to be felt in his wracked body, as he evaded then tucked himself into a ball and rolled over his bad shoulder between the mutant’s legs.

Rising to a spring only to stagger and fall as the blood oiled blade whirled around across his back, fresh streams in the air as he fumbled roughly face first into the rubble caught himself and rolled over one of the bodies of the slaughtered hybrids. Ripping a grubby and badly maintained pistol from within the dank folds of its robe, Consortium issue it appeared beneath the grime, and raising it not towards the face of Krahs who leered through his missing teeth but at his feet. Specifically the compression the giant had bestridden in his quest to reach the Defender and from which would absorb the brunt of its fiery demise.

“Smile you son of a B-“ Killgore cried squeezing the trigger and then dropping to the ground grabbing folds in the meat of the dead hybrid and dragging its corpse over him as the blast went up.

Feeling the concussive force from which the weapon earned its name roll over him like an old fashioned steamer wheel, still warm fluids gushing out from his protective shield as its body collapsed into itself, and than pass leaving him only short of breath. A problem he rectified by shoving the dripping, mangled mess off of him and sitting up gasping for breath, a turn of his pale and ashen face revealing the “slayer of champions” kicked several meters away his lower torso folded against itself and shoved up his abdomen. Convinced it was no longer a threat and urgently wishing to escape before something that was came back Killgore pushed himself up to the intensity of his reedy breathing and with the sole camera which survived the blast following him began to hobble towards the blown doorway and Thyde. Listening to Sammus’s cheers of the three picture deal he’d sign on that ending, with a possible fourth throw away film dealing with “supreme commander” Krahs life and times before having his arse blown off, all the while.

*

Let me give you some quick advice:
-Ask yourself what's your goal for a character/situation;
-Write down a few sentences answering the question;
-Write down a few ideas, like "Getting SSD", or "Finding LightSabre" that you wish to see in your story;
-When you think of the story in your head, select one encounter (ofr example, my first encounter with Riddick) and flesh it out in your head.

How you get to there will come naturally after that... :)

Thanks. I'll try it for the next plot related segment.

[Praeothmin]

Nice and gory, though at times I must admit I had a hard time following the action...

I am happy Killgore survived, I was afraid he might not survive in the beginning of the fight...

[sonofccn]

Short update this time, returning to the vampires again through I promise I'll have Thyde's action up next time, which I'd blame on an advanced state of apathy but...meh why bother. ;)

“You laugh at the stories growing up, dark spun fables about Witches meadow. About the old Grange manor. Local color as it were, kids stuff each of us leave behind but…that night…none of us laughed…the blood…and that idol…I don’t know if madam Grange truly consorted with the devil all those years ago but that jade statue was carved in the deepest pit of hell. Where is it? After we bound those freaks, Lord forgive us for not placing a bullet between each one’s eyes, I had a deputy weight it down and toss it in the center of Gloom Lake. May light never touch that unholy thing again.” Sherriff Fowly reporting on the recent “Grange kidnappings” to Bureau Agent John.

New Hope, New Haven-

I.Pink Floyd-Comfortably Numb

Fat rain drop against a roof, that what it sounded like. The crimson droplets which oozed from his finger tips engravened over the arms of the chair he’d been placed in to the floor beneath adding to what his soles had tracked in, his eyes staring ahead into the wall. Staring at the opposing chair which rested its back against it, staring at its brown and creased leather until Slytherina deposited her own delicate form between him and it. Adjourning from him after he’d been seated to change into less soiled clothes, unlike his own tattered mess, this time choosing instead the whimsical and suggestive garment like before she’d adorned a more sensible and down to earth attire. More reminiscent of the woman he saw disembarking, whom he rushed to her side all that time ago. Had it really been that long ago?

The question disrupting the empty serenity of Deran’s mind, a careening Shaak that despite how quickly he wrestled and subdued left razor edged shards in its wake. For the question’s mere existence bringing rise of his conscious mind and fruit most bitter, wanting nothing more to spit it out and retreat from the proffered branches. Wanted too but through the cobweb splintering of that initial question realized he couldn’t, his mind was awakening from such submersion and for that moment at least would not return but face the nightmare he found himself in if not for absolution but then at least some ultimate truth. And so it came and with it tears.

“The gates…oh great gates denied me.” He muttered bowing his head into the upturned palm of his red stained hand.”Oh what I have delved upon, what I have transgressed.”

“Was it really so bad?” A soft, alluring voice asked from beyond the folds of his scarlet smeared hand.” Am I really so bad?”

Closing his eyes, listening to that soothing voice, he felt his pain ebb slightly and feel the answer it wanted rise in his throat. Feeling himself float into it, wrap himself up in it, before the metallic tang of what coated his fingers, his jowls and very breath brought a fresh surge of revulsion through his being. Lifting his hand up from its cradle, opening his eyes to stare accusingly at where she sat managing to sit with both a regal authority few queens could have mustered and yet drape herself in the aura of the wide eyed innocent.

“Yes…what I did…what you have spoken of…those black rites…are and a thousand times worth!” He snapped striking his hand against the side of his chair to vent what was inside of him, watching in surprise as that section twisted and tore free to fly across the room.” See? What am I? What are we? Not in fables, not in legends but objective truth. What have you made me into?”

“ A god if you will small enough terms.” She said coyly, rising up and somehow causing Deran to slink slightly away.” I find such terms too limited personally, too abstract. I could say I have made you perfection unto itself. You are now stronger than you ever could have been, cities shall rise and fall as the mildest milestones of your life, even death itself bows before you now. But even that truly fails to describe what we are.”

Talking she walked over to him, suffocating him with that presence of hers which could so consume him. Nor could he deny or discredit the part he’d already experienced, the power coursing through him and euphoria of using it had been tremendous. Yet, as she knelt beside his chair taking his hand in hers, he could also not deny the price it had exacted. Expressing it even as he found his will faltering and his mind gelling once more to in her presence.

“A worthless dreg to society.” She answered sure of herself, raising her other hand to his cheek.” Don’t delude yourself on that, his greatest contribution was offering to us his betters.”

“Feth!” Deran cursed with such suddenness and venom to startle even Slytherina, the she-haunter offering no resistance as the engineer brushed her aside and rose stomping across the room.” Will you listen to what you’re saying? I killed a man…and then I…the Guardian forgive me.”

“You killed a violent, stupid animal that would have taken your life if it could and you sustained yourself off of its meat. That is all there is too it.” She said standing but respectfully remained there when Cosa raised a shaking hand to ward her off.” Simply part of life’s tapestry. But if it troubles you so there are other, less final, means of obtaining what you need. I merely wished for you to understand what you are forsaking.”

Blinking Deran thought back to the grainy, distorted memory of the robber’s body being torn open, the sensation of what slid down his throat. Also remembering what he felt as he did all that, greedily ripping hunks off of the body like a feral animal, and save for what Slytherina brought to him it had the most greatest, purist of elixirs. That scared him, and he could see she sensed it from him.

“ I can’t do that…never again…never…” He cried with a shake of his head banishing murky, red thoughts from his mind.” I’d sooner hurl myself upon a stake then take another life like that.”

“As you wish.” She answered sweetly looking as innocent as a freshly wind swept snow.” We rarely indulge as such ourselves, too few people too many questions. Think of tonight as a special treat, nothing more. Now than with that beyond us can you accept the gift bestowed upon you? Can you accept me?”

“Do I have a choice?” Deran found the courage to ask, taking a further step back until he brushed against the wall.”Since stepping off that shuttle did I ever have?”

“You could have left me on the ground.” She answered without hesitation taking the first of the long strides which carried them together, the barest blink seeing the distance melting away between them.” You could have left me to my fate but you stepped up to my aid and I liked that. So…yes you have a choice. You can step away into the darkness alone, live the isolated life you once wielded as best you can, or you can take my hand and together we can chart a new course.”

He wanted to scream at her to get away, to have his feet run for the exit into the cold night fueled by the blood drenched images in his mind. Instead even closing his eyes all he could see was her, listen to the humming of her voice in his ears, all he could think of. Distantly he found his hand raising to met hers, felt her cool to the touch fingers interlock with his own.

“What…what would…you have me do?” He croaked, tears flowing once more.

“For now?” She cooed leaning to nuzzle the side of his neck and whisper into his ear.” Only that you are returned to your friends, whole and hearty.”

“But I thought…” He muttered breaking away through this time not from revulsion or fear.”You wish to send me back after all this?”

“It is nothing like that…but you would be of the most use to the Blood Family back aboard your ship.” She explained, the sweetness of her voice unable to disguise the vulgar words.” So isolated, so far from our world. So mysterious to us…”

“A Fething spy…you want me to be a spy…on my own shipmates.” Cosa derided disgust evident in his voice as he stepped around her and began to pace about.” Is that all I am, a tool to be used?”

“You are more than that to me, much more or I wouldn’t still offer you a chance to return to your old life.” She explained in a way to almost make him forget his outrage, almost.” I won’t deny we have need of such services but I won’t force you to break your fealty to your confederation of planets.”

It was the look in her eyes, that hint of tears without the actual shedding of ones, which finished the job and which made the hot rage Deran felt subside. Replacing it with cold discomfort and even twinges of sympathy for what he knew was no mere example of womanhood.

“It isn’t that I like the Empire, you understand. It’s horrible, the worst plague on our galaxy filling it with the sort that struck you. They’ve wiped out entire aliens species and once…they destroyed a whole Core world. I mean I hate everything they stand for but…since the Empire replaced the Old Republic it has become almost the only means of advancement. Without them I’d be lucky to working an assembly line making minimum and that was the only reason I went them not because I desire the same ends they do. Please understand that.” He tried to explain, suddenly beset with an urge to explain.

“I see…so it is your allegiance to this former Republic, this great bastion of liberty and justice which your Empire debases as my current government does its own great culture.” Slytherina said slowly.” I understand.”

“No… not really.” Cosa quickly rejected ceasing his back and forth.” In truth the Republic was a blighted, sore upon the galaxy. Entire worlds enslaved upon its frontiers, both literal and figurative, without its care or concern. Its members focused inwardly upon their dens of vices, their political cartels or what they could extort from their corporate paymasters. A bastion of nothing but utter corruption where not the people but those of the coin held sway.”

Tension rippling through him as he recalled first the static heel of his Empire and then the corpulent corpse-state of the former Republic, acidic barbs sinking into his tone as he spoke, feeling his incisors shift and extend slightly so that they scraped his bottom lip. He wanted to be adamant he didn’t recoil from Slytherina’s proposition from loyalty to either institution but then what was it?

It was a simple question, like before causing damage to his delicately arrayed mental landscape for out of accordance to itself. Tumbling through his mind repeating itself over and over, why shouldn’t he do it? Loyalty to a Commodore who likely didn’t realize he existed, childish honor he doubted if he ever possessed, or perhaps his shipmates? Yes, that had to be it. He had to be loyal to those who worked with him, who trusted him. The thought soothing him, abating the eddies and currents within him and allowed him to find his center. His core from which he could anchor himself firmly against her.

“Loyalty to ones friends is laudable, noble even.” Slytherina said slowly, drawing out each word, beginning to stalk around him like a predator after prey.” But are you sure its well placed? You spoke of the intolerance of your Empire and it is my understanding that such evils can only be by the tolerance and acquisition of those who embody it. Will they remain beside you if revealed to be different or will they caste you aside?”

Yet Cosa didn’t have to imagine instead recalling the day his world joined the Empire, at the edict hidden among the long list of others. That along with annual taxes and ritualistic pledges of support to the newly crowned Emperor there would also be filled barges of citizens of “impure heritage”. Some merely near humans whose genes time and the great galactic distances had partially woven away from the basic stock, taken from their homes to be resettled deeper Rimward, while others had been betrayed by a greater than average midi-chlorians in their blood. Too low for the hypocritical Jedi to have bothered with but not for the Empire to take notice of, and amid grim but oddly placid faced soldiers in crisp uniforms Deran had watched gray and miserable people herded up. Taken up gangplanks for processing camps or even worse fates darkly hinted at while friends and family did nothing or indeed exuberated the process in hopes of casting away suspicions from themselves.

It was a fundamental if unspoken truth of the Empire that threats to itself were identified, localized and nullified be they alien, corporate, religious, secular, internal or external nor would he be viewed differently, recognized merely as a pathogen. A carrier for that which could turn a man into something other than a man, to be either destroyed on sight or taken to be studied as wild rumor spoke of what happened to those with a sufficiently high midi-chlorian count.

“There would be some…adjustments to be sure.” He said at last feeling Slytherina’s eyes on him as she traced around him.

“I’m sure. And some debate I’ imagine.” She whispered at his side.” Such as whether to light you on fire or if a mere beheading will do. Don’t delude yourself in thinking mere mortals won’t destroy what they can’t understand. I see it too strongly in your eyes, hear it in your voice, for me to believe you are naïve to the galaxy at large.”

“So they’ll be scared, scared of me and even more of what their superior thinks he should do in accordance with the Imperial creed. That doesn’t mean they should be killed.” Deran stated firmly turning his head after Slytherina as she glided around him.

“And I wouldn’t ask you to or interfere with the duties they entrust to you or demand anything which would endanger those around you.” She promised vanishing behind him only to reappear right in front of him as he panned his head back around to catch the other half of her circle.” All I ask is to be privy what occurs in those great star galleons of yours, some idea of the happenings of which we trapped on the world below can only dream and wonder about.”

“Just that…a grunt’s eye view of what’s happening?” He stammered blinking trying to focus his mind again.

“Yes…that’s all. All I want, all I require. No one at risk, no great secrets to betray.” She whispered into his ear once more as the world swam.

Recalling old tales of the Haunters of the night, of dire warnings for those who crossed their path, appeals to fealty and loyalty he had intoned in joining the Imperial service, gory intersperses of what had transpired in that alley and a million other things which converged and churned into one indistinct whole. And from this slobbering sunken star of thought he emerged, his internal scales weighed and measured.

“All right…if that is what you want…” He answered feeling lighter and freer with the answer.

Unshackled even, and standing there in her embrace he enjoyed that unburdened feeling. Of a strength, clarity and fearlessness he hadn’t known before or realized he wanted. For her part beneath her gilded smile there was only rancorous laughter at his first step onto a longer journey. One she hoped to fill with crimson…

*

I am happy Killgore survived, I was afraid he might not survive in the beginning of the fight...

Killgore can not die. Only the Soldiers who portray him.

Yes I stole that from the Simpsons. Seriously through I just hope I made the fight worth the price of admission and showed just how tough and bad arse First Atune Killgore is.

[Praeothmin]

Nice, and that lady Vampire is sultry...

And the Empire only besets loyalty from Rednecks and ingorants...
Or Elitist assholes... :)

Seriously through I just hope I made the fight worth the price of admission and showed just how tough and bad arse First Atune Killgore is.

Yes, yes you did... :)

[Admiral Breetai]

“ I am Krahs the strong!” It roared stepping out into the open.” Worlds tremble at my approach, civilizations immolate themselves upon breath of my name, and whole histories turn to ash with my passing. I offer the quick release of death to all who seek it and promise of unparalleled agony of those who don’t.”

This guy right here..needs to fight Im'pec the listing for their titles and epitaphs alone would cause armies to freeze in terror lol

Killgore was bad ass and Slytherina slutty and manipulative..very much fantastic great updates so far!!

[sonofccn]

Okay here's a teaser for my reality jumping side story while I try and finish Thyde battle scene. Hopefully it and the conclusion to this will be up monday. Wish me luck. :)

Also hope the music link functions, having to do it blind since work blocks youtube.

“And lo her armies sundered, her priests drawn out through the streets Necromina did at last abate and yield to the Emerald goddess. A bloated prize the victorious elder deity did drag beneath the earth’s crust to secretive burrows where, for it is told by the high old priests of the sect of Gi’geth, for one hundred seasons did she harrow her kin and sibling with the dark forces of that desecrated sod, wedding the glorious one to it. Masking her in it, trapping betwixt the affairs of the ethereal and the corporeal before at last broken and bewildered did the Emerald goddess cast Necromina to the farthest outer spheres…” Extract from cultist “bible to the Star goddess” recovered during a raid.

Neverland-

I. White Rabbit Jefferson Airplane

Krahs stumbled the harmonic acoustics of his lesser brethern’s pillaging vanished, the rich scent of battle robbed from his receptors replaced only with a musty, decaying clod of an odor not at all as pleasant. His eyes, shielded beneath translucent membranes transforming them to off white orbs, saw not the ravaged landscape of the assault or the puny trader champion but the craggy walls of the massive bowl shaped crater he now stood.

Nor was it stone or cement or any medium forged by nature or molded by intelligence that he knew off, the mottled and sallow themed crevice uniformly created from a grungy substance not unlike the ivory tusks of the champion from Thryrria. The hole in which he stood blasted forth from some great pressure and heat, the clues of the climatic birth still lingered on the hideous walls, perhaps as a final and lasting tribute to some great battle or clash. Which Krahs rugged but simplistic brain deduced his summoning here, for what else would one call forth the breaker of beings, seeing from across the way that he was not alone. A colossal figure, obvious even across such a vast breadth, posed triumphantly the illuminating yet somehow sickly light which fell from the turbulent and ashy sky glinting off of his pair of mechanical hands as well as teeth sharpened to rival even Krahs’s.

A champion the mighty Slayer deduced with glee, one far more worthy of his efforts than the small, little thing the Traders had managed, the old cravings burning freshly in his blood as he took a step forward getting a feel for the unnatural terrain he found himself in. Finding it he took another and yet another crossing towards the center of the arena, for it could be nothing else he knew, briskly but restraining himself all the same holding back his full speed or the totality of his strength. From his side his opponent did likewise aping his direct movements towards the hybrid, bringing himself into fully clarity with each confident bound revealing the powerful and thick muscles which were clad beneath his skin, the thick protective ridges which ran up his brow or the taunting glint in his eyes. Growing larger with every stride as the two closed to one another until he nearly rivaled Krahs’s own bulk and from some distant corner of the mutant’s mind he pondered if he was staring at, from some distant source, one of his own kind. If Ravager blood did not flow through the ridged one’s veins as well, devilishly hoping it was true for the glorious fight it would bring. Far too many seasons had past since he’d last fought those of his maternal parentage and it took all of his force of will to break and charge the foe. To send his blood flying freely and taste of it finding out for himself but there was certain customs still to perform. Rituals per say which while immaterial to his lesser brethren to him bespoke of a deeper purpose, a clarity of mission which invariably ensure only the strongest and best warriors strove to face him when he entered a world.

“I am Krahs the strong!” He roared stopping a few meters from his opponent, he in turn doing likewise.” I am the destroyer of champions and murderer of their puny holdings. From my path flows the blood of a thousand-thousand whom I felled before me yawns a thousand-thousand yet to be.”

“I am Im'pec the silver handed. I kill gods.” The giant warrior said with a laugh then striking.

Moving with speed unimaginable for one of such bulk as he but not fast enough that Krahs the slayer of champions could not up upturn his honed edge of his fin-arm towards the living missile. Its bone edge catching against the shimmering spider webbing of energy ribbons which sprang into visible being between same as it caught the hurtling alien and gently repulsed him back on his feet.

“Not yet.” A voice called out drawing both warriors upturned to the rancid sky where a plateau of liquid metal hung suspended above one edge of the crater overlooking the vast arena.

On it three daises sat clustered, two together with the third raised behind them, supporting a throne and occupant apiece. One of pure radiance which supported a glowing colossal sashed and berobed as a city ruler, another was wrought from hard iron draped in scarlet blood and tinged flames neither of which assaulted the resting armored warrior and lastly there was one of stygian shadows on which perched a gaunt and hunched figure half veiled beneath the folds of his dark robe. It was from him which the words had been spoken and with the raising of a withered, yellowed palm commenced once more.

“Choose your weapons.” He hissed like the opening of a coffin lid.” The contest shall begin shortly.”

Riddles and confusion running through Krahs’s mind, yet feeling…something…suppress them away, he looked down from the floating isle to see weapons springing from the ether beside him. On his side of the barrier his foe was similarly blessed, bladed melee weapons which like the champion slayer were flawlessly proportioned to his build and strength.

Watching him warily Krahs leaned over the surprising and spontaneous offering to scoop up an iron gauntlet ringed with silvery spikes and bypassing an Iron Golem sword clasped the handle of a great war ax, its notched and pitted blades showing it had been used and mettle tested, lifting it up above his head as he adjusted to its weight. From across the way he saw the alien take upon himself a thin, curved edge sword, almost dainty in his massive hands, and sheath which he tied to his waist and then claimed a wide swept barbed one edge weapon which he spun two handed acclimating himself to its weight and balance. A slight look of disapproval appearing on his features as he found it wanting through serviceable since he chose not to discard it to the pile.

Any chance then vanishing along with both sets of weapons as well as the energy field leaving the space between naked but only for the heartbeat it took for the two warriors to fill it. The air rumbling as the great ax fell splitting a seam in the hard ground while ringing where Krahs curved his sword-arm to meet the crescent blade through failing the second time as the alien warrior spun off of the block nicking a seam across the giant hybrid’s back…
***
“First blood!” The armored warrior shouted striking one mailed fist against the arm of his chair, spilling copious amount from his foaming mug as he did so.

Droplets searing away to steam the moment they touched the dancing tongues of fire which harmlessly licked upon the steely skin of the great being, pressing his elbows down onto the coal like material as he leant forward in anticipation of the battle.

“Yes that honor does seem to fall to your champion. ” The glowing figure said in agreeance.” But much more will have to be spilt before it’s over, the battle still rages. As it should be, honorable and fair combat.”

That seemed to mollify the being of iron, fire and blood slightly, craning back his mug against his face draining it only to have it refill itself as he rested it back upon ledge of his throne. The flames parting around it and harmlessly circling where he sat it.

“Of course, blood spilt from a lopsided battle isn’t glorious.” The Warrior reasoned watching the two specimens below break apart wary of each other.” Through I had hoped for a coliseum metted from the clash of blades and the roar of cannons not this…desolate wasteland…lacking in imagination or soul…”

“It is uncomfortable…” The Radiant Being relented reluctantly not wishing to stir old arguments.” You can feel it in the air…there is something off key about this place.”

“I do apologize. I did my best to make the atmosphere survivable for us and our combatants but to come here was necessary.” The emaciated robed one announced watching with unhidden eagerness as the two charging warriors were stopped by the “ground” up heaving and bulging between them. “For I never said this was a contest between them solely.”

The growing hill splitting open like a cancerous polyp disgorging the twisted, misshapen hellish spawn which made the depths of the sickened and twisted world their home. All of whom rushed outward on blinding instinct to slay the interlopers.

“Let the games begin.” The skeletal one announced raising a crystal goblet to his cowled face, barest hint of his rotten and frayed lips appearing around its edge.

*

This guy right here..needs to fight Im'pec the listing for their titles and epitaphs alone would cause armies to freeze in terror lol

becareful for what you wish for...;)

[Admiral Breetai]

holy shit!! That is awesome!!

Im'pec only has one robo hand though, Johnny left him the other :P

so their fighting the hordes of hell there? I can't tell if that's what they would call vacation or not lol

[Praeothmin]

Yup, can't wait to read the rest... :)

[Admiral Breetai]

Yup, can't wait to read the rest... :)

I am Dahar Master Im'pec! The Silver Handed! The Wielder of Starbreaker! The God slayer and slayer of Tyrants! Bring yourself before me! Hordes of the deepest pit! Throw yourselves against mighty Starbreaker! Bring your demon lords before me that I may cleave them in twain and come from this battle known as "The Bane of Grethor itself!!!! Im'pec Fek'lhr Slayer!"

honestly..Sonof you do some fan work and all my characters you have used you have captured amazingly.

I am surprised you say I radiate hour of the heroes when you have basically taken Robert E Howard and put him in space..

[sonofccn]

I am Dahar Master Im'pec! The Silver Handed! The Wielder of Starbreaker! The God slayer and slayer of Tyrants! Bring yourself before me! Hordes of the deepest pit! Throw yourselves against mighty Starbreaker! Bring your demon lords before me that I may cleave them in twain and come from this battle known as "The Bane of Grethor itself!!!! Im'pec Fek'lhr Slayer!"

Sweet. And you wonder why I bow before your aura of high champions. Mind if I swipe that for my Fic? I can just see him standing upon a mountian of the dead striking them down by the scores as he shouts that.

honestly..Sonof you do some fan work and all my characters you have used you have captured amazingly.

I of course thank you through of course the same can be said of you and my characters.

Im'pec only has one robo hand though, Johnny left him the other :P

Whoops. Sorry for the continuity error.