The Difference Between a Demon and Devaronian

[Jehkran Dmath]

The Difference Between a Demon and Devaronian



Boots beat the earth like drums. Body shadows swarmed the wall, casting the sunlight as background for mere seconds. Above shot the deep blue and bright sun down on those below. Ancient stones stood tall, forming buildings, hiding the women and men in dash. An eerie quiet scatter through after them like a forgotten tail. Then, the streets roared. The distinct blare of a 74-Z speeder bike swarmed Jehkran's ear. He dove, rolled, and curled into the shadows. A white, bucket-topped, armored troop leaned confidently atop the engine, blasting through. Beside Jehkran rustled two woman, Devaronians. They were politicans. This was the capital (Montellian Serat), and this was war.

Vroom!

The speeder shot past again. Jehkran leaned back further, as though the wall was going to bend. All three of them hid, but not alone. Others sat firm in position a long the block as the man's shirade continue. Disdain heated their red faces, and the Echani felt it more than ever. The youngest, Dee, had talked about it earlier. Now, Jehkran just eyed her, knowing all too well her strong-will, little fear, and hate. She despised the Empire. He despised the Empire. And as she sunk low, between the building, well in sight of Jehkran's vision, he understood her. Maybe a bit too well. The future was all too clear, and he could feel her edging from impatience. She would act rash, but he wouldn't let her go alone.

Vroom!!

He blasted past again. There would not be another time. The SpecForce boots beat the earth once more, slipping into the street with blaster high. His Echani eyes, cold, and sharp did not stare, but struck the man. Lightning could have hit the trooper harder, but this was a clear day, and the blaster bolt had yet to be shot. It was only Jehkran's eyes and the oncoming speeder-bike between death and the scouter-trooper.

Vr-aadoom!!

[Stormtrooper]

Security hadn't got the alert. All was as usual at the capital. The troopers were in an abudance, handling patrol. Most of the streets were clutter with usual traffic. Everything was as it should be. A few lazy soldiers had taken early breaks, grabbed a deathstick and inhaled away. Others went on with their routine, circling the blocks. One or two could be heard squabbling around the block, betting on who had the best shot. Off down the way, near the shuttle drop, stood about four men. Decked with the standard uniform, with that remarkably, shiny white, they waited. For what exactly was unsure, but the stormtroopers definately were waiting. Possibly for action, or just getting off, but they were biding the time with conversation.

"So how long you been here?" One asked. The concision of his voice was Coruscanti. This was the Colonies, a foreign world. Even in his demeanor - reserved, yet a bit loose - it was he clear he was a Core Worlder. He was the catalyst to conversation. The busy body of the group, and his number read TK-403. His name was Yal, though. All the readings on his background came up with quite bland telling, but he was worthy of his position. Nothing truly amazing on his rap sheet, but nothing bad either. He was a decent soldier. The other was different though.

"Just got in." TK-422 spoke and it was raspy. The gravel was rough, filled with experience. Dav was a fitting name for him. Time dealt this one a few blows, a few scars, and it couldn't be easily distorted by the helmet. Last year he was fighting on Bothawui, and the year before that he was deployed to Endor. Good thing he missed the flight because his bowels were messing up, but he had still seen enough. Not enough to quit, flee, lose his paycheck, or escape, but enough. Devaron was a safe place to be station. Dav was sure of that.

"Yeah? Who’s your commander?"

"Someone called Ra'fel."

"You mean 'Friendly Fire'? You better make out your will now..."

"What're you talking about?"

"You haven't heard? Guy's a real one-man army."

"What?" TK-422 was confused. Anybody deep enough in the war knew better than to be a one-man anything. The only one-man thing he ever did was feast. TK-422 loved to eat. Absolutely loved to eat, matter fact, he was thinking of a meal right then and there as they spoke.

"As soon as the action starts he's blazing away like no-one's business. You wanna make dead certain he's in front of you or you'll be getting new rear vents in your armor."

"You're kidding me."

"No, I'm serious."

For a moment came silence, then Yal laughed. Dav didn't. The joke didn't go over his head, but he was just too serious. Yal's laugh trickled off somewhere, blowing off in the wind. They went back to their duties. Patrol was such a bore. TK-422 drifted right, TK-403 went left. The point was to circle the landing site, and intersect with the other guards in rotation. This way, no movements would get lost in between their two post.

Only problem, they didn't expect their own speeder to come blasting at them.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!"

Vr-aadoom!!

[Jehkran Dmath]

The grin snaked a long his lips.

Shadows hid the crimson skins behind him, lost the shrewd cracks between the buildings mistaken for alleys. Jehkran's cool blues became crystals. The carmine, amber twisted explosion blew smoke into the sky from the crash site. Chaos gave into sound with chatter, commands, bellows, heavy steps, and quick dashes from the distance. SpecForce officers were use to these sounds, but when they ringed in his ears his heart beat like euphoria was upon him. The taste of the air had become sweet, and his nose stole the stench of broken speeder parts.

The grin had long turned into a smirk.

All the others had crept from hiding. Intent sat in their soft steps, and intensity roared in their eyes. Down the street was more space, but not for long. Soon the clamor would storm with the troopers at the head. Blaster bolts would fly, and bodies would fall. That was the procedure for those bucketheads, but Jehkran was prone to break their schedule. Nothing went as routine as long as the SpecForces came along.

The grin had died off.

Everything was serious again. Whispers were littering his backing, and the Devaronian woman were growing unsure. The heavy steps were growing closer, and the quiet of the day made it ever obvious. No one wanted to die, and Jehkran would make sure they wouldn't. One glance shot over his shoulder at the woman before he built a stride. Then, the stride became a run, and then a full on dash. They followed suit as his hand flapped off at his waist, calling for a hidden package.

The grin returned again, and just in time to wave off Jehkran's beloved Class-A thermal detonator.

[Jehkran Dmath]

Boom...

That was the thought, the idea, the expected sound, but there was nothing. It was silent, beside the sound of those thuds coming from the troops and woman. Jehkran watched with a careful eye as the explosive ball floated through the air. Slow went time, and the Echani warrior was certain to keep everything within sight. Already the white of the bucketheads sparkled with the sun's gleam and were coming from the right. Behind slipped one of the girls into his peripheal, and down the way still sizzled the burning victims and the crashed speed-bike.

When the ball dropped, it trickled off to the right a long the hard soil. Jehkran had made sure to the time it perfectly, and his hands acted as a perfect director. Sweeping his hand off to the left, he soundlessly demanded a flack off to the west.

They followed without any retort.

Slipping into the hide between the last building on the block, they used the alley as a fortress. Still the stormtroopers were on the move, oblivious. They were a pack of experts, but small balls could get lost in the heap of motion. Especially since most of their eyes were trained on the rebels, who were fleeing to the building. It was a grand plan, but not a finale. Not all of them would walk into it so stupidly.

But some of course would...

BOOM!!!

[Jehkran Dmath]

"Bucketheads so stupid."

Some girl murmured, Jehkran didn't follow. All he did was laugh. No, not laugh - he cackled. Not maniac, but disturbing - yet only for those bucketheads she was talking about. Jehkran was engulfed. The chaos, the madness, the wild, the battle - it all coated him at once. The moment resembled a waterfall trickling down on the meditative one, off on some pleasant planet, or at least it did for Jehkran.

Echani loved to fight.

This was his art. The paint was his blaster, and he was going to make some extra layers. The orange of the explosion roared ahead, and the destructive fire toppled over the white shelled fools. Behind him flooded the woman, and they dove through the fire with sudden speed as he did. The others had flocked back, prepared to fire, but hidden behind their respective buildings.

They needed to block themselves. Everything had gotten serious, quite quickly, and they weren't ready.

It all looked so perfect in this small yard, this small separated point between the small huts. Even though they were likely surrounded, the Echani couldn't help but smirk. He revel in this moment. This was greatness, and his hands clicked away, preparing himself for the oncoming doom.

For some odd reason, he was certain he wouldn't die, but the possibility was just enough to keep his adrenaline up. Someone nudged him on the side, and he looked. He always looked. He was attentive, focused, and trained. One of the girls was smiling up at him, as the rest of the group flank into a circle, keeping their back to one another.

"You sociopath you."

He smiled down. A blast went flying over his head from the left. Dust shot up, and the group crumpled down in evasion. The battle had started up again, and the war was set. Oooh how loved his job.

[Jehkran Dmath]

The white haired kid had a wing span on him. He had a good heart in him too. A savior type, and he used all those to do his deeds. In the heat, deep in battle, his arms went wide. Not to stretch, but to cover the others. The Devaronian gals were in the line of fire, and Jehkran had to direct this scene.

So, he put his director's cap on. Figuratively of course, because his hands were busy. Real busy, actually. While his long arms cover the bunch from flying dust, red and blue blaster bolts in cross-fire, and kept them down from any other unforseen traffic he was twisting his fingers to shoot.

Both his eyes were pinched close. Too much dust was flying, and they were useless anyway.

This Echani was blessed (or cursed) with the Force. Over time he hadn't relied on it, but it was still in his arsenal. He had used it before on the battlefield, and he knew he would use it again. Jehkran didn't like to, though. Too much flash, when the point was to be direct. If he could do it simply, why do it mystically?

But, he couldn't do this task with hands, blasters, and limbs. There was far too much going on for that, so he tuned in. Allowing a calm to blow in with the breeze of dust, he inhaled, then exhaled. Holding on to his dual blasters with only his index's at the trigger, he let go a push.

The winds had been contorted, bended, and binded to the Echani's needs. A smirk slipped on his lips as his eyes opened to see the treat he had made for himself. White shells were pushed everywhere. The blaster bolts had been turned back on their respective shooters. Some dodged, and were smart, but not everyone was. A few had gotten hit, but all of them were on the ground. The wind blown at them by the help of the Force was too much to play the balance game.

So, a lane had been open. And the demon girls had to move fast.

"Move it yall, ova there!" Jehkran pointed, lifting his wing span for his little chicks to dash off. He would cover them. Normally, he'd say that, because it sounded cool to, but this time it was too intense.

Sort of like the way he liked it. So much fun playing the hero.

[Jehkran Dmath]

Jehkran covered them. He didn't have to say it. They knew. They had to know. If they didn't, they wouldn't move. In the very air the stench of their fear could be smelt. Through those vents on the bucketheads it was being reveled. Those stupid, dumb, annoying stormies loved the smell of fear. It was like a Life Day dinner. Nothing was better than fear, it made killing all the more sweet.

Every planet they went to abo were the best kills. Murder after muder across the galaxy could be heard near and far in Jehkran's head as he stood their, with the only real sound around being the cluttering of feet. The thuds banked through his skull, but all he heard was the screams of those that had fallen. Jabiim came up, shooting through his memory like a holo-feed from an astromech. It was an emergency, alerting, alarming him of the dreadful ends that many had to perish to.

Only he hadn't.

Not yet, and not ever if he could help it.

A snarl rose along his lips. The excitement was at a boil. The temperature was fueled with gas from the explosions nearby, and fumes permeated the highs while the lows were flooded with white shelled figures. Battles was on, and Jehkran was the only blockade the ladies had from their onslaught. The aim was still the capitol, that hadn't change, but Jehkran first had to handle the oncoming traffic.

Crash!!

The SpecForce were quick thinkers. Always on their toes, and with the assistance of the Force there was alot to be done. Jehkran waved one hand, and shot with the other. Loose debris flew at the newly balanced, running bucketheads. Stormtroopers were so stupid, sometimes. He wondered how they manage their way through the Imperial Academy. Yet, not for long, he couldn't blunder on such things amidst the heat of battle. He had to move, and move he did. A blaster bolt was on its way, and he pushed himself to the side in evasion. However, he wasn't done.

No, he was just starting.

He made sure no loose fire would hit his crew. The ladies wouldn't be done in by a stray shot. So, he shot at the bolt, destroying it with some precision. Then, with the other hand, occupied with another blaster, he shot. All this was done mid air. It was fantastic. Or at least it was in the eyes of the Echani. His arms were criss-crossed in a blast of fury, and already one stormtrooper was down.

Down for good too, there was a blaster burn right through his husk. Perfect. Now the crew was on the move behind him, and distant too. The thuds weren't near anymore. They had somehow found some cover. When he finally fell from his free-fall, shoot-and-go, he rustled back to his feet. Running where he had last heard the girls, he shot backwards.

He had to keep them off him if he was going to progress.

[Jehkran Dmath]

Jehkran had to focus. His mind had to be clear. Emotions not so much. Actually, it was better that his emotions were clutter. Using anxiety, adrenaline, and fear in the face of certain ends were tools of the trade for any survivor. And Jehkran was most definitely a survivor. He eased through the battlefield like home. This was where he belonged most.

No competition could be found. No, not without the same fright he used, boiling in their eyes. Behind the mask of their Stormtrooper armor their was so much turmoil. Screams could be heard throughout their intercoms, but Jehkran saw nothing. In his eyes there was only enemies. Men who deserved their pitiful demise, and disaster.

The Echani was there to serve it.

Bplaaaashooo!!!

Another blast shot through the air. It went through the helm, into the head, and out up against a wall. One more trooper was down. The crew was off to the capitol building. Feet banging up the steps, more and more white shelled beast trickled from their lairs to brawl. Only Jehkran was there to stand against them. The others were preoccupied. They had to get to the capitol to handle the barrier around the city. Without the help of outside fleet there wouldn't be a city to claim. The Devaronian were strong race, and they needed his help.

There wasn't a more worthy people to die for...to live for.

Shots riddled the area, and Jehkran dashed. He moved artfully a long the front of the steps, dodging red bolts aimed for his head. One duck there, a jump here, and two more blaster fires lifted three soldiers of the vile Empire off into another world. Years of training had made the Echani an ace. Whether it was his hands or his trigger finger, he was not an easy kill. Distance meant nothing when there was a blaster in hand. And it was worse when close.

Foot extended, he bashed into the skull of a nearby straggler. The helmet went flying, twisting and turning out the air with the spit and blood of it's owner. The man fell, and hard. A thud echoed through, and a dastardly smell reeked from within. It was feces. At the split second between foot and death, feces had come out.

Fear was such pathetic thing.

"DIEEEE!!!" Someone screamed. But only if they knew, the Echani would never flinch at simple words.

[Jehkran Dmath]

An ache re-rolled back in Jehkran. Pain was a word he knew well. It came hand in hand with battle. Such a thing was unavoidable. However, he didn't expect it. When he turned someone had hit him. The bunt of the blaster thud through him. There was no helping, he was on his knee. Fear didn't come though. He was under control. He was always under control.

Before there could be a follow up, he was up. Jehkran jolted back. The bolt of his fist twisted his body in a spiral. As he twist, the balled rock of a hand thrashed through the skull. Breaking into the shell, it forced spit and blood. Sinking out the bottom of the shattered helm, Jehkran yanked back at his hand, calling for it to kill more. The well-placed punch had not torn life from the man, yet. No, instead the blaster bolt would do that.

With a finger, a pull, and smirk the bolt tore through him. An exasperation was heard. Life had once more left the battlefield in the shape of a single man. He had prized his bunting contact far too highly. Now, he was gone. Jehkran was yet to be satisfied, though. Pain was something he knew all too well, but hated as well. The bad taste of it left disgust written on his face. When he turned to the others, they knew. They should not have hit this one.

He was a menace.

More clamor swarmed through their channels. Calls and orders beckon with bellow. Fright desired them, and would have them. The instrument, of course, would be Jehkran. He struck them bolts after bolts, aced with graceful precision and smooth motion. While he shot, he manuever, avoiding oncoming blast. Nothing would hit him. Not while the mission was still at hand. They would have to try better.

Far, far better

[Jehkran Dmath]

No one is invincible. Not even a well-trained Echani. All the experience in the world doesn't train someone for action. There has to be something there, deep down, that saves a soul in the heat of hell. And dont get it mistaken, this was hell. Fires blazed about, chaos roared through the streets, and fallen soldier litter the grounds. Above worked and trumped Devaronian fighting for freedom in their own city hall. The state of their world was in true turmoil, and nothing would be the same. History had marked itself on this day, and Jehkran was apart of it. That well-trained Echani was in the state of mind to fight, but was he in the state of heart?

A blast hit.

Sweeesh!!

The singe echoed in his ear. It was not direct, but he was scorched. The side of his arm weaken as the blast scaved his skin, tearing away at the cloth that would have gladly hid the burning blood. Crimson drenched his dirty pale body, leaking on the steps as he stagger in a startled mess. Jehkran hadn't been hurt often. Not enough to act appropiately. But what was appropiate in war? Not much. Maybe he was right to scream.

"AAAHHHH!!"

The yell was pain. The yell was anger. The yell was fury. He released with sheer force and let it echo through their skulls. In the depth of it all roared the source that he had always clung to in these dire times - the Force. The men's ears felt blood rush and boil in their skulls as the sound-waves amplified with total disregard. Knees buckled and sent the troopers to the ground one by one. Weapons dropped, and Jehkran bucked his head back to the heavens. His eyes went tight, clenching on sanity for only a few seconds before he gasped and let out another one.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Inside the Devaronian's heard him. They were too far to feel him, but they heard him. There wasn't any pain. They were too preoccupied to survey, but they cringed at the possibilities. Still, they continued. Step by step, they knocked down the incoming traffic. No one would get in their way. They were getting ever closer to their goal; the planetary and city panels. The shield generators were still very alive...but not for long.

[Jehkran Dmath]

Tweaks and twitches of flaring green thin energy bolted around the city. Foot steps beat through the hallways and corridors in a bustle. A rustle wrecked the calm, stormtroopers tightening the grip of their palms. There was something quiet at rest, and it was hate. The Empire had taught the troopers well. Over the years their experiences were bound by rebellion, disdain and unrest. Their very existence welcomed and revolved around violence. Although there was no sound, and no life to be felt through the stinging, tense air, they were there and very alive.

It was sad, really. Hard to put a finger on. Far off in the distance there was someone playing. There was something good to this world, without the blood stains and pain, but here Jehkran could not see it. Here Jehkran was amidst trepidation and nothing else. There was nothing other than the glint in his eye casting for hope, and the Devaronians that rushed the city halls behind him.

As the men lay there, weakened to their knees waiting for his Force scream to abate, the mission was being accomplished. Blast tore through the dull silence, with the sudden burst of orders through the network. All the guards inside were feeling the women's wraith. Devaronians were not an easy species to kill. In the depth's of the shadow, off in the far reaches of the corner in that large, city hall building, there was one woman. She was pushing away, clicking in the coordinates and sabotaging the shields.

Tweaks and twitches of electric bolts running through the energy fields were reverted into something less. Instead of an ominous glare of a shining field, it was only a flash. The bolts were weaken, and sightless. All that was left in the seconds that pass were the beauty of the sky. There was no shield to bar the city from it's saviors any longer.

Jehkran and his attack team had won...

He fell to his knees....

He fell to his face....

He fell to darkness...