Arsalis Kyrr
Oct 9th, 2005, 08:37:34 PM
"The Galactic College of Alchemic Science"
That was what the sign said.
From a place with such a profound title, one would have expected to find only hard-working students, giving up a portion of their lives to a commitment to make themselves better. For decades, the school had lived up to those expectations, working its way to the top of the Galaxy's list in the study of alchemy.
Now, though, such peace was naught to be found. Only fear. Only suffering. Only death.
A young student screamed in agony as a portion of a nearby wall extended, it's suddenly razor-sharp point emerging from the boy's chest like a hot knife through so much butter. His blood began to well up on the ground below, flowing and intermingling with that of so many other students who had suffered similar fates already. The bones of another group of students cracked audibly as a slab of durasteel, similarly manifested from another wall, crushed them against its opposite, tearing their bodies as it pushed relentlessly, finally making contact with the other wall. Frantically, another student worked diligently to draw a hasty transmutation array on the ground, only to find that the ceiling above him had suddenly become a fountain of corrosive acid, transforming him into nothing more than the skeletal image of the human he once was, sticky goo dripping from bones that were once concealed by flesh and muscle.
Stalking through the room, another man - tall, with fox-like ears and a silver tail to match his long hair - turned to see another pitiful attempt at detaining him. Casually, he touched one of his heavily-tattooed arms to the wall, watching remorselessly as the young twi'lek alchemist was skewered through the neck by a finger-width durasteel rod, once again an emission from the wall. Grabbing her throat, the student coughed once, blood and vomit erupting from her mouth, and then fell limp, the metal rod refusing her the peace of collapsing.
Turning away again, the man bent down, lifting a bloody scrap of metal that lay on the ground, a few feet from the site of an earlier explosion. Holding it between his fingers, he watched as it began to glow, the bright light expanding as the object changed shape and element. When the light subsided, the alchemist held up his new weapon, a glint in his eye as the light reflected off the slender blade. Lowering the blade, he stepped over countless dead bodies, making his way toward the last surviving alchemist in the room...
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Arsalis Kyrr awoke from deep slumber, only vaguely aware of the relentless beeping emitted by his ship's onboard navicomputer. Lifting one impossibly heavy arm, he wiped the cold sweat from his face. He had been dreaming again, the same dream... a dream of a reality that had been too horrible to remember, but too hard to forget...
"Damn you, Xoriix!"
A harsh laugh echoed in his head, sending chills down his spine.
Really, Arsalis? Am I really that horrible for you?
It was the same voice that echoed through his mind every night, as he continuously relived that horrible night. He couldn't forget. Xoriix wouldn't let him forget. He felt a tear grace his cheek - he wasn't normally one to cry, but the memories were absolutely unbearable.
The memories...
[Sir, reversion to realspace in 10 seconds.]
The metallic voice he had installed in the navicomputer chimed in, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand. He would have time to sulk later.
"Thank you."
Watching the clock, he reached for the hyperspace lever. As the counter made its way to zero, he pulled the lever back, watching through the cockpit windows as the mottled blue of hyperspace dissipated, changing first into an array of bright white starlines, and finally slowing to a field of black, the stars finally showing themselves in their full glory.
As the engines whined to a stop, Arsalis checked the ship-board analysis computer. A number of vessels began to appear on the readout, ranging from the smallest starfighters to capital ships larger than Imperial-class Star Destroyers. As identification data was processed by the computer, the identification for each ship was displayed, marking them all as members of the Rebel Alliance armada - the operative he had spoken to had been telling the truth, after all. As the ships continued to appear, Arsalis began to sift through the names, searching for one specific ship...
You know, I'm not such a big fan of this idea, Arsalis.
"Yeah, shut up. You'll get your share of action with the Rebels, I promise. That's all you want anyway, right? If we go here, they'll even make it legal for you."
Why not the Imperials? I think I'd have more fun there...
"Because the Imperials rule by fear and destruction - it's an evil way to live. Here, we can both be happy - you get your fill of blood, and I can help to rid the galaxy of scum."
There's no such thing as evil, Arsalis. There's what makes you stronger, and there's what doesn't. That is the only evil that exists in this galaxy.
"Then why do you care where we go? The Rebellion is as good as any other military, and we can serve a just cause while we do it." He spotted the ship he was searching for, resting in the back of the armada. "There it is."
Kicking in the sublight engines, he wove a course around the armada, rather than through. When he was just outside the other vessel's targeting range, he shut off the engines, reaching now for the comm switch.
"Attention, Rebel Star Cruiser Home One. This is Arsalis Kyrr, captain of YT-2400 Freighter Array. I seek an audience with personnel on your vessel, requesting permission to dock."
Reaching down, he touched a button on the computer console; the code the Rebel Operative had given him a week ago began transmitting.
"Transmitting identification and code clearance now."
That was what the sign said.
From a place with such a profound title, one would have expected to find only hard-working students, giving up a portion of their lives to a commitment to make themselves better. For decades, the school had lived up to those expectations, working its way to the top of the Galaxy's list in the study of alchemy.
Now, though, such peace was naught to be found. Only fear. Only suffering. Only death.
A young student screamed in agony as a portion of a nearby wall extended, it's suddenly razor-sharp point emerging from the boy's chest like a hot knife through so much butter. His blood began to well up on the ground below, flowing and intermingling with that of so many other students who had suffered similar fates already. The bones of another group of students cracked audibly as a slab of durasteel, similarly manifested from another wall, crushed them against its opposite, tearing their bodies as it pushed relentlessly, finally making contact with the other wall. Frantically, another student worked diligently to draw a hasty transmutation array on the ground, only to find that the ceiling above him had suddenly become a fountain of corrosive acid, transforming him into nothing more than the skeletal image of the human he once was, sticky goo dripping from bones that were once concealed by flesh and muscle.
Stalking through the room, another man - tall, with fox-like ears and a silver tail to match his long hair - turned to see another pitiful attempt at detaining him. Casually, he touched one of his heavily-tattooed arms to the wall, watching remorselessly as the young twi'lek alchemist was skewered through the neck by a finger-width durasteel rod, once again an emission from the wall. Grabbing her throat, the student coughed once, blood and vomit erupting from her mouth, and then fell limp, the metal rod refusing her the peace of collapsing.
Turning away again, the man bent down, lifting a bloody scrap of metal that lay on the ground, a few feet from the site of an earlier explosion. Holding it between his fingers, he watched as it began to glow, the bright light expanding as the object changed shape and element. When the light subsided, the alchemist held up his new weapon, a glint in his eye as the light reflected off the slender blade. Lowering the blade, he stepped over countless dead bodies, making his way toward the last surviving alchemist in the room...
----------------------------------------
Arsalis Kyrr awoke from deep slumber, only vaguely aware of the relentless beeping emitted by his ship's onboard navicomputer. Lifting one impossibly heavy arm, he wiped the cold sweat from his face. He had been dreaming again, the same dream... a dream of a reality that had been too horrible to remember, but too hard to forget...
"Damn you, Xoriix!"
A harsh laugh echoed in his head, sending chills down his spine.
Really, Arsalis? Am I really that horrible for you?
It was the same voice that echoed through his mind every night, as he continuously relived that horrible night. He couldn't forget. Xoriix wouldn't let him forget. He felt a tear grace his cheek - he wasn't normally one to cry, but the memories were absolutely unbearable.
The memories...
[Sir, reversion to realspace in 10 seconds.]
The metallic voice he had installed in the navicomputer chimed in, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand. He would have time to sulk later.
"Thank you."
Watching the clock, he reached for the hyperspace lever. As the counter made its way to zero, he pulled the lever back, watching through the cockpit windows as the mottled blue of hyperspace dissipated, changing first into an array of bright white starlines, and finally slowing to a field of black, the stars finally showing themselves in their full glory.
As the engines whined to a stop, Arsalis checked the ship-board analysis computer. A number of vessels began to appear on the readout, ranging from the smallest starfighters to capital ships larger than Imperial-class Star Destroyers. As identification data was processed by the computer, the identification for each ship was displayed, marking them all as members of the Rebel Alliance armada - the operative he had spoken to had been telling the truth, after all. As the ships continued to appear, Arsalis began to sift through the names, searching for one specific ship...
You know, I'm not such a big fan of this idea, Arsalis.
"Yeah, shut up. You'll get your share of action with the Rebels, I promise. That's all you want anyway, right? If we go here, they'll even make it legal for you."
Why not the Imperials? I think I'd have more fun there...
"Because the Imperials rule by fear and destruction - it's an evil way to live. Here, we can both be happy - you get your fill of blood, and I can help to rid the galaxy of scum."
There's no such thing as evil, Arsalis. There's what makes you stronger, and there's what doesn't. That is the only evil that exists in this galaxy.
"Then why do you care where we go? The Rebellion is as good as any other military, and we can serve a just cause while we do it." He spotted the ship he was searching for, resting in the back of the armada. "There it is."
Kicking in the sublight engines, he wove a course around the armada, rather than through. When he was just outside the other vessel's targeting range, he shut off the engines, reaching now for the comm switch.
"Attention, Rebel Star Cruiser Home One. This is Arsalis Kyrr, captain of YT-2400 Freighter Array. I seek an audience with personnel on your vessel, requesting permission to dock."
Reaching down, he touched a button on the computer console; the code the Rebel Operative had given him a week ago began transmitting.
"Transmitting identification and code clearance now."