Log:Knights of Ren: What's Yours Is Mine
The Knights journey to Christophsis to provide instruction to the Church of the Force. As they do.
OOC Date: April 8, 2021
Location: Christophsis
Participants: Sebek as Self/GM, Tamsin Cas, Tarq Najjic, Knights of Ren
[ Sebek (SE)]
Behold, the Crystal Star!
Or not, alas, for the subsumation of such a story into tales of Legends has resulted in that TRIPE being removed gloriously from our bibliography. In this instance, we are on the crystalline entity of Christophsis, a remote planet fought over many a time by those who desired the bounty of Kyber running in deep veins through the surface. Now, it's a shell of itself, the Kyber having been mined almost to complete depletion by a particularly industrious Empire with grand planet-smashing plans.
But still, it is not all bad news. For the Church of the Force has opened a shopfront here! It is deemed a shopfront, and not a chapel or a church or whatever, because the Knights of Ren are en route to begin their patented brand of smash-and-grab upon the unsuspecting peaceniks.
The ?! NIGHT BUZZARD ?! is not a vessel that glides. It is more akin to a thrown brick that just so happens to be on fire, belching out horrible smoke and battering aside air currents and avians in its singleminded pursuit of a landing zone. Sitting in the pilot's seat is Sebek the Lost, of course, with one leg crossed over the other and yoke held delicately in his fingertips.
"He Who Leads passed without naming a successor. Such a rite is mandatory amongst our Order, and with no inheritor we must continue to follow his will," he was explaining to his two favourite no-longer-acolytes, his deep melodious voice oozing all over the controls. "For it is heresy to appoint a new leader without conducting the rite of inheritance, and thus even in death he cannot rest. It is for that purpose, my dear comrades, we have come to this blasted world of crystal and crisis. A holy order has once again started their profane rituals over artifacts of magickal nature. This we cannot abide, for are all artifacts not ours?"
The *& NIGHT BUZZARD * swept low through a canyon carved out of crystal by the natural forces of erosion and entropy over literal eons, slowing when it approached a small, ornately carved entrance in the crystal face. Then it settled down with a delicate touch, and the environmentalist nightmare engines chugged to a stop. "Our mission, Knights, is to take from them all they hold dear and return it to our coffers, as is our due."
[ Tamsin Cas (Cas)]
Tamsin Cas, on such journeys as these, would have, before now, sequestered herself in the small medical bay that had been built for her in the aftermath of Hoth. But then was not now, and Tamsin sat at one of the auxiliary station chairs, eyes turned to the viewport, watching the planet quickly approaching. Robed, helmeted, and bolt upright, as though she did not dare relax her posture, or take a moment of ease, she waited, "We are still Knights, whether or not our leader is among us." Tamsin, of course, had not given up hope, keeping her daily routine as close to what it had anyways been as ever, if perhaps spending more time in the station's garden, "We will secure whatever it is they are protecting here. We will need it, in the days ahead."
[ Tarq Najjic (T)]
"Tarq Najjic can almost hear lamentation already: 'Is our sect ever safe?'" He is pulling on his second leather glove, tugging it snug as he leaves the cockpit, split cape rippling behind him. "Answer: no." He turns a hand-crank to start the ramp lowering. "Sebek, has been one passing /without/ naming successor. Betrayal of Kylo - Ben Solo."
"Must be way forward. Always is." Chipper optimism in the cause of the death of the Force. He reaches up under the harness supporting his cape and pulls out a lightsaber with an emitter at both ends, but does not activate it, waiting for the ramp to finish lowering.
[ Sebek (SE)]
"A lesson persists here amongst adherents," Sebek pointed out, adjusting the bands of his battle cassock and ensuring Tei Tenga was tucked away appropriately. "Should you worship, ensure what you worship is yours. This heretical order errs often, as they worship that which is /ours/."
The ramp groaned open like the hydraulics hadn't been maintained in years. They had, under pain of death, it was just a horrible terrifying quirk of the vessel. The ornate entryway gave way to a small room carved from turqoise, set up as a chapel, in which a number of survival supplies, crates, bags, mining tools, and other living bits were scattered around as the Church fought to get itself established. At the back of the room was what appeared to be a makeshift altar, made from two tall crates and a cloth, upon which were some strange items that were hard to see from a distance. There were what looked to be doorways, but considering their proximity to mining gear the rooms beyond hadn't yet been carved.
Of course, it was not abandoned. Six heads lifted and turned, individuals all near the back of the room with hands near blasters and rightful suspicion in their gaze. And who wouldn't be? The approach was not quiet. At first glance they looked like spacers, but on closer look one was wearing a garb similar to Sebek's but of off-white colouring and significantly less ostentateousness. "Come, friends!" boomed the man in the religious attire. Humans, all of them. "Come and sit with us, we will never turn away travellers."
[ Tamsin Cas (Cas)]
"It is strange to me, to worship a thing that you can do nothing with. To bend all your will and purpose to it when it has not deemed you worthy of its power." Perhaps the good doctor was missing something. Be that as it may, Tamsin was the last to step off of the ramp, and while she had her weapon with her, she did not hold it. The tilt of her helmet as they walked towards what one imagined was intended to one day be a temple, did hint at some curiosity, but that curiosity narrowed down to the six figured arrayed before them, hands on blasters and suspicion in their eyes. Rightly so, for there was more in the contrast than dark robes pitted against white. "Are we friends?" Tamsin's tone was light, even with the distortion of the vocorder, "And yet you reach for your weapons." And then, as if that mattered not at all, Tamsin moved further into the carved chamber, approaching the one who greeted them.
[ Tarq Najjic (T)]
Tarq's helmet settles onto his head as he pulls it down before descending the ramp. He keeps pace evenly with Tamsin as they process formally across this not-yet-formal chamber. His arms swing lightly as he walks, the lightsaber hilt obvious in his hand. "You know why we have come." Vocoder-Tarq's voice is far deeper than Tarq's own voice. "Yield your works of artifice, of connection with the Force, and we will - show - mercy. Otherwise we will not."
[ Sebek (SE)]
Right. Well. That didn't go quite so well. The Deacon's mouth formed the wobbly line of someone scared, but trying their darndest to hold it together. The other five stood with hands near blasters, their hands shaking. It was a... what's the world? Ah whatever, it was definitely a standoff. "Friends, please. The Force promotes harmony in all interactions," the Deacon continued in that faux-holy voice of his, raising his hands as though to quell the tension. "We preserve the histories and knowledge so that it may not be lost to time. Surely this will benefit all of us!" Scared so, he still spoke like an orator, attempting to appeal to the woefully lacking better natures of the Knights.
"Be done with it and end him, or break his will," Sebek instructed, perching himself in the doorway to prevent any escape. "Their fates matter not, only our prize."
[ Tamsin Cas (Cas)]
Tamsin remained unmoved, a hand reaching for the weapon she had secured on her back. Of course, with the helmet, it was impossible to see what she felt, or thought of the men now trying to hold off the inevitable. She drew the whip, her voice losing its lightness, "What do you know of the force? Can you feel it working through you? Can you feel it directing your life, your breath? No?" Tamsin lifted a hand, "Let me show you." She slowly began to tighten your fingers, as if she would cut off his breath, but he seemed less effected than she would have liked.
[ Tarq Najjic (T)]
One long step forward, and Tarq stands right up in the face of Kral Misha. "We - are short - on time." And just like that, he presses one emitter of the lightsaber up against the man's chest. "Are deacon, yes? Last deacon was unwise. Last deacon lost - what he would /protect/, and his life, besides. You - you are perhaps wiser. To learn from mistakes of others, that is wisdom. Ah, this is- impersonal."
Tarq presses the release at his neck and pulls the helmet off, pitching it behind him without looking. Never once does the lightsaber move away from the man's sternum. Now his green eyes are visible, staring into the man's eyes. "We will get - what we want." Now his voice is smoother, perhaps even mellifluous. "You will survive, to spread - your ignorant - faith- /if/- your companions present all valuables. All scrolls. All relics."
He wiggles his thumb. It's on the activation switch. It has been all along, but movement draws the eye. "Tarq Najjic is going to count to three. Will not - be - a four. One."
He presses the lightsaber more strongly against the deacon's ribs. "Two." He tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.
[ Sebek (SE)]
There was no 'three'. There was only chaos.
The Church of the Force, being beatnik pacifists obsessed with preservation and worship, were not exactly the best quickdraw artists in the business. Blasters burst out of holsters and filled the air with ozone, plinking off the crystalline walls of the temple cave. Deacon Misha, however, was made of sterner stuff. When presented with Boy Band Kuati face, he reared his head back and slammed it straight into Tarq's face. No, his precious modelling career! "We would never bow to you, /looters/!" He leaned back and grabbed one of the artifacts from the altar, a tube-like device of intimate familiarity, that, when a button was pressed, bathed the room in glorious emerald when the beam emerged from the emitter. Behold, the most holy blade of the Jedi!
"Heretics!" That was Sebek in the doorway, not even having to duck the wild shots that had gone his way. "Slaughter them, Knights! Leave none alive! Bring them /all/ to heel!"
[ Tamsin Cas (Cas)]
"You should not have done that," Tamsin chastised, as the Deacon damaged Tarq's pretty face. The blaster fire seemed to whiz all around her without seeming to bother to actually hit her. Tamsin, though, left the Deacon to Tarq as she drove ahead, moving to meet the disciples and drove in to fray. "I was waiting for one." And then she was in the thick of it.
[ Tarq Najjic (T)]
Tarq Najjic was certain that this proto-congregation would see reason and yield its limited number of valuables. He had bet Tamsin fifty credits they would, in fact. When Kral Misha bashes his forehead into Tarq's face, something almost as important as Tarq's nose is hurt: his pride.
But also his nose, with sudden bleeding out both nostrils and a difficult to hear but /very/ easy to feel cracking of cartilage. Maybe there's something to this helmet concept beyond striking fear into the hearts of enemies, after all. "Ewe - will pay - for diss - oudrage!" Tarq's fury is mediated by an injury defacing the majesty of his voice, but however comical it may seem, the murderous intent is real.
With a snap-hiss, a crimson blade emerges from the emitter facing the Deacon, who is no longer in position to be immediately murdered simply by the activation. With a low slash, he removes one of the man's legs at the knee, and then continues the motion up through the elbow of the arm holding the green lightsaber. "You live," Tarq hisses, "so Zebek - kin /ead/ you." Then he steps forward to impale one of the soon-to-be-eaten Deacon's acolytes right through the chest. He glances at Kral Misha for a moment. See? This could have been you! But now you're going to be digested by a cannibal. His slash at another acolyte is desultory at best, as he turns his attention to the survivors, eyes narrowed.
[ Sebek (SE)]
"Nonsense," speculated Sebek, somehow pleased by the fight being put up by a bunch of pew-fillers. "It is but your right to consume your own victory, He Who Jests. And yet..." The bisecting through the just-below-the-hips area of one of the Disciples trying to get past him to freedom was done almost offhandedly. In fact, it /was/ offhandedly, Tei Tenga was thrumming happily in the Falleen's left hand. His right hand was pointing at the fallen Deacon and it was only distracted happenstance that the Disciple had fallen in the first place. "An opportunity, She Who Rages! I deem he yours!" More specifically, the tube humming serenely with the green blade. The Deacon could never have wielded it effectively, he had lacked the gift, after all.
Adherents were turning and firing at the Kuati Model with the Rearranged Face, now, missing, screaming, torn by fear and terror. It was a slaughter and they knew it, and we kept going only through blind panic.
[ Tamsin Cas (Cas)]
Tamsin, who did not seem much able to affect death and destruction with her weapon, apparently decided to chuck it all in the bin and used the skill that was best suited to her, her fingers tightening as she faced the Disciple that was given to her by Sekeb (such a generous Fallen was he). "This should have been much easier. It could have been much easier for you." Tamsin's tone hardened, "But you had to go and make it difficult for yourselves." And this time, it was her anger that fueled her actions, as she clamped down on the Disciple's throat with her will, cutting off his breath. "Say sorry."
[ Tarq Najjic (T)]
Tamsin has the last senior disciple exactly where she wants him: gasping for air. Tarq ignores him, instead wheeling about on one feet as he storms towards the altar, one sweeping circular slash taking both the remaining Church of the Force acolytes through the torso. He keeps his saber ready as he rifles through the Church's allegedly-precious materials. The green lightsaber is still humming on the ground - it's definitely a terrible tripping hazard. Watch your step. "Fools."
[ Sebek (SE)]
It was certainly decisive, there was no argument there.
With the slaughter complete, Tei Tenga disengaged with a sigh of contentment. The best kind of blood was shed blood. With the adherents and disciples a bunch of body parts on the floor, and the deacon gasping for air and somehow still alive, it was once again a total victory for the Knights of Ren. There was a low, single chuckle from Sebek as he leaned against the doorway out. "Come, He Who Jests, let us allow She Who Rages her pleasure."
The Last Disciple left standing, inasmuch as it could be called that when there's an invisible vice grip around your throat, was trying desperately to gasp and suck in air. He was scrabbling at his throat, trying to loosen the grip and prevent that fatal asphyxiation. Somewhere in the choking noise were syllables, one sounding like "SSH," and other sounding like, "RRRH," but they were very unclear.
[ Tamsin Cas (Cas)]
"I am sorry. I can't quite hear you." Tamsin's tone was even, as she tightened her metaphysical grip on the disciple, "Could you speak up?" Were the rest of the adherents dead? Tamsin did not know. She only had eyes for the one she was speaking to, his body lifted slightly from the ground as the life was choked out of him, "Does this conversation feel one-sided to you, Tarq?" And then her grip tightened, as she tried to snap the disciple's neck, and drop him to the ground."
[ Tarq Najjic (T)]
"You carry id," Tarq agrees, still rooting around for items of value. Surely there's something. Scrolls, a reliquary? Still, a lightsaber alone is no small find. Tarq sweeps the top of the altar into a bag, then steps carefully over to the green lightsaber and flips it off before dropping it in the bag as well. "Is rude nod do respond." He finally pulls a cloth up to his nose, dabbing the blood below and near it without touching the nose proper.
[ Sebek (SE)]
Crack was the leading cause of death amongst Church of the Force adherents, and today was no different. Daiyv went down like a sack of lothtubers, the now partially hidden necklace under his collar spilling out when he hit the ground. The crystal attached was the dull, clear colour of unaffiliated kyber, a prize far grander than the perverted gem inside the green lightsaber. "I have beheld such before," said Sebek, his eyes darting to the fallen man. "On Jedha. An escaped sect. We have done He Who Leads proud today. I shall beseech the help to collect the sundries. She Who Rages, as he is your victory, his prize is yours."
[ Tamsin Cas (Cas)]
"I am very disappointed," Tamsin offered, to no one in particular, as the Disciple's neck snapped and her power snapped off, retreating back into the woman like some animal, having been let out to hunt, returning to its den. Again, that tilt of her head, as she took a knee beside the body, free hand reaching out to wrap her fingers around the crystal on its chain, a quick tug snapping the links and leaving her in possession of the prize. "I feel I was promised conversation when they invited us to sit with them." Tamsin rose, turning back to look at Tarq first, and then Sebek, "Red does not suit you, Tarq." And then, for a moment, Tamsin was herself again, as she made her way over the collected bodies, "I will see to you. A face such as yours is a terrible thing to waste."
[ Tarq Najjic (T)]
"Tarq Naszhic learns this day - no ultimatums. Only killing." He utters the words flatly. "Thank you, Tamzsin." He nods once at the necklace. It's more valuable than the rest, and justifies their visit alone. But that doesn't go in the bag - it's hers. "At zship," he requests, and then picks up the Deacon's remaining leg to drag him back with him and up the ramp of the Night Buzzard. "Do nod ead my enemies, Szebek. Will you lend hand - claw, and tooth?"
[ Sebek (SE)]
"We shall partake as only comrades may. Thus we must prepare accordingly, for alas, humans have not developed the culinary abilities to digest their own so easily." The eating of a human was of course Serious Business and thus was treated with reverence by the mad Falleen.
A victory was struck here in this crystalline wasteland. Yet another offshoot of the Church of the Force was crushed, a prize most valuable had been obtained, and dinner was free. A good day for all.
