Fears Leads to...

[Tieru Ocarre]

Fears Leads to...



Air jumped out, and was yanked back in. The lungs were on the grind. Wide slits, called eyes, scampered and crawl. They clawed for anything, searching, but there was darkness. Night had come up, and the day had died. All the beauty of green trees became omnious. Deep footfalls broke lost branchs and leaves over and over again in a rush. Above hid the wide arms of the tree's, allowing only a bit of light. Like shutters they hid the figure as he passed, but the heaven still glared. Black hair, thin frame, and a shimmering gray device sped through. It was a Jedi in the dash. It was a Jedi on the flee. It was Tieru Ocarre.

Rori was new, and damp. The swampy earth, restless life and serenity were profound, even in it's depth. Yet, he couldn't swallow it whole. Tieru was muddled. All his teaching had kept him alive this long, but doubt still mixed his brain. Each step brought him further. However, in his mind, it didn't do enough. Still there was the thought, in all it's darkness, behind him. Chasing, and running him down, in hopes to cause an end.

Someone...

Something, was after him.

He had to keep running. He had to keep going. There was nothing but his feet, and fear. Never had fear been so close his heart with his lucky friend - hope. The strange combination had made sure smirks had come to his lips in the face of incredible odds. All the impossibles broke because of this awkward relationship he had grown fond of. Fear was not another word to him, but a friend.

But he was that friend you never went anywhere a lone with. Tieru went in a pack with fear. They weren't that close of friends, and being just with him was...painful. All the terror of the last time he was just with fear was brought back. The days of old, the days of the Clone Wars. That faithful day when no one was given the chance at fear, only death.

And he was there, hidden away, escaping the death only to have fear. Only to fear another day...like this day. His faithful day.

[Zephyr]

The hunt was a beautiful thing.

All the terror left the hunter with delight. Behind the mask sat a stoic figure. No change in features, at least not to the human eye. This one was far more delicate in it's approach. Zephyr was an established name, but not on one man, woman or one sentient's back. There were many that don this wear, bore this armor, and destroyed. Some didn't exactly destroy though...they simply caught.

This time would be different.

This one was different.

In a sweep of accurate steps, the hunter moved soft. Gold, brown and black slither through the branches, effortlessly. No sound followed, just movement. Each move was eloquent, precise, and progressive. Hidden amid the leaves, and darkness, it stared down. Zephyr was at it again , and growing ever near. Already the two had met in Namel, but he fled.

The Jedi always fled.

They were magical cowards.

Some foreign sound chirped from the mask. It wasn't Basic. The language was exotic, filled with strange pitches, awkward rolls, and an off-beat rhythm that made it musical and dangerous. The words weren't translatable by most ears. Yet each phrase was purposeful, and the tone was not subjected to the language.

This thing had spoken loud enough to be heard, and though the words weren't decipher, the feeling was. Tieru was going to feel Zephyr's wraith.

[Tieru Ocarre]

Fright slither through his spine. The swamps smelled of funk, stinch. The dark of his brown eyes were touched by the moon. He stopped. Tieru's feet wrestled with him, toes ready for more. Below his shoes were his soles, and they were filled with gunk. Only a little rustle in his step broke sound, making a gush. Mud fluffed underneath his feet, and he stared. Blood churn and boiled in his veins. His eyes stared ahead, like daggers, through the waterfall of his black hair. Disaster spoke in his ear, in a whisper, and he closed his eyes. The wind passed through, taking the hushed voice away, but still the words resonated. Images of death sprawl his mind. Yet, he didn't move. At least not much.

Only his hand lifted.

Open palm, he stood. The wind had already blown, but it was required. There was more at work than the basics of nature. A bind deeper than the normal eye could see yanked like a puppet string at the ancient hilt at his waist. The silver hold drifted through the air, landing safely. This was his form of security, his saviour.

And it lit to life with a radiant orange.

The stance was set, hands tight, but legs apart. From above the golden vigilante could scrutinize, observe. There was much o decipher in this Jedi's stance. Acrobatics, swings, and much more could be expected by his right-side hold, and leg positions. Each part of his body betrayed him, as Tieru had revealed himself as a warrior.

And so, the battle-field had been set.

Tieru wasn't going to run anymore.

[Zephyr]

"Aaah.."

Zephyr was pleased. The creature crunched down. Under the hunter's feet the branch weaken, shredding at the socket. Then, it was left behind. In a single bound, Zephyr blasted through the air, with a heavy footfall. The armor was strong, with weight. As the floor met the hunter's boots, Zephyr's eyes met the Jedi.

Before the golden devourer he stood. Black hair, vanilla skin, and thin, ready to die. Zephyr was pleased.

No breathing could be heard. Each inhale and exhale was silent, Zephyr had made sure of this. In the silence, thick, between the two, the golden helm ticked with ideas. A plan had long been forged, but the setting had changed a tad. There was much more to be done, but a few limitations to be considered. Yet, there was no lack of confidence. The air still was filled with fright that delighted the beastly creature behind the mask.

All was well. Zephyr would begin.

Head lifted, shifted to the left, the helm sparkled at the parting of branches. Above smirk the moon, and it's light, gracing the stage with it's beauty. Then, in a sudden burst, it allowed Zephyr to drift from the stage light and into the darkness. Footfalls could be heard, and twigs were broken. Leaves crumpled under, yet little else was heard beside the small clunk and click of an arsenal.

Sudden was the red bolt, flying through the night shade. This was only the beginning, but the blast was aimed perfect for Tieru's head. Zephyr was going for the kill.

[Tieru Ocarre]

In the lull of the forest, anything was something. All was dark, and sound and sight were barren fields, until that shot. The shot was coming fast. Tieru had felt this moment before. It wasn't all new. The fear was, but the sights weren't. Such darkness was remniscent of his training days, long ago, back in the Temple. Just like he had so many times before, his wrist flicked and his life remained.

Many red bolts had come his way. Jedi didn't live safe lives. These times made it more hectic than unsafe. Chaos roamed the galaxy, and had even found him on Rori. There was no place to escape, no place to flee. Tieru had to face this problem head on. He hated that fact.

The fear that bumped in his heart, thumped at his feet. Each step left a pulse jump in his chest. The beat was off rhythm, and with no cadence. Erratic as his motion, he let the breeze guide him. A whisper whistled in as the air wheezed pass, calling for him from the left. His eyes weren't reliable enough. Darkness still claimed the land, and the moon's shine only reached so far. It was a heavenly spectator, in audience with the stars, waiting for this faithful battle to end.

Tieru swung, right for the neck. This had to be quick. Bounty hunters weren't to underestimated. Many had in the past, and they weren't anymore. Death kept popping up in his head, and he didn't try to help it. Tieru was dedicated to this life of survival. It was what he knew. He'd use this fear for the better; for survival.

[Zephyr]

Duck!!

Instinct called at Zephyr, and it didn't ring once. A quick pick-up, the hunter went down. Knees bent, fingers out, stretched, to the floor, there was a crumple. The dead leaves shuffled in the move. Close combat registered in the predator's memory core, and was yanked out for use. Each circuit in the sentient's body went to work, processing measurements, distance, and angles so accurate that it was a plausible mistake to claim this one was a droid.

The very idea was novel.

Zephyr grinned behind the mask as the after-thought slipped in as the hunter skidded up. Fist balled, and extended, the target was close and chest exposed. One good hit would do the trick. The advatange was still on Zephyr's side, and the space cowboy had nothing to fear. There would be no room for ducking on this one's part. Tieru would have to be more clever. Instincts had guided Zephyr out the path, but this golden-headed hunter was all to sure it wouldn't do the same for this vile Jedi.

[Tieru Ocarre]

Spit, flim, everything gushed out. The punch was hard, unexpected. Hard enough to make a rock jealous. Stiff with eyes wide, he leaned. Tieru's slits of cool were gone, forgotten, and surprise riddled his face. All the grit that flushed out, splashing like a rain drop to the floor was soaked up in the dark. Nothing could be felt but sudden pain, shock and reason. The very reason before his fears had showed itself, and he was stubborn.

Tieru wouldn't recognize the truth, he'd rather fight it.

Anger splashed his face as he crumpled over. The fist was still in, deep, pressing to his stomach. The mouth forced wide by the jab went shut. Teeth together, his heart went cold and mind bold. Death dropped out his thought bubble, and he let darkness do as it had with the spit. He soaked in it, dived, and swam.

He was a good swimmer too.

Tieru pulled himself from the suspensed shock. With clever foot-steps, he cherographed a careful spin from any follow-up. Feet graced with practice, style, and class, he moved like a dancer back into poise. Only a few feet away, his blade lifted. The glare shined, revealing all that he was. Danger boiled a long the sizzling blade, the lightsaber well aware of its owner's intention. Instead of anger being showed, there was a cockiness. A smirk ran a straight course along his lips and he ready himself once more.

"Ya' gunna pay fa dat..."

No other words were allowed. Tieru was back at him. In a rush, his legs parted a tad, and saber lifted up. A swipe went down, angled acute, trying for the hunter's ribs.

[Zephyr]

A sizzling pop put it to a stop. Cortosis ore was the cause. Zephyr was proud behind the gold. Forearm out, and wristband weaved with the deflective ore, the plan was set. Blaster available at the waist, it was pulled, yanked, aimed and shot. Of course, it wouldn't do the trick. Even as they were locked with band to saber, the Jedi had the advantage. The Jedi would always have the advantage.

Magic was just far too broad for the limits of blaster fire, and sheer strength. Only a blink away, the Jedi managed to flee. One step back, and another forward, and the black haired target was flipping over the hunter's head. One roll away kept him secure, but not for long. Zephyr had taken the pursuit.

In a swivel, the blaster bolt went once more. A singe could be heard as it was dodged, smashing inadvertly into a tree. The small burning smoke slipped into the air, being blown into the breeze as Zephyr took the chance for a charge. Already the prey was on the move, off balance, so it was perfect.

One shoulder in, and golden head down, Zephyr barged. The bang could be heard with a thunk. Somehow the hired kill had moved. Somehow the predator had missed, but where was he. Tieru couldn't be found. The target was beyond the guise's vision. Through the lens of the helmet settled all sorts of digitalized devices and sensors, detecting warmth, enhancing sound and all sorts of tricks.

Yet, the target was gone. The darkness was thick, but not that thick. Displeasure seeped into Zephyr's being and with a crouch, stretch of the arms the predator turned into a barbarian. An anger took the hunter. The time had come to pounce...but where.

[Tieru Ocarre]

The waltz had grown tiring. Tieru couldn't flee, but he could rest. In the hide of the trees, he hunched over, and waited. All the brush kept him hidden. Yet, he was still unsure. This creature, this hunter, predator, had shown skill. It was no chance he could stay in this place for long. A plan had to be formulated.

Even as his blade was silenced, saber held with sweat and a grip to kill, he thought. Although meditation was never the Jedi's strong-point, it was a pivotal skill. Each time moments like this sprung up, it had to be pulled out the arsenal. While the breathes grew more eased, heaved less, and all was more calm, his idea was brainstorm.

Then, in a blink, a shot came. No more time to think, just act. In a blast, he flung himself. The air blasted through his hair, throwing it into wild storm over his eyes. This meant nothing, he didn't need his eyes. All the senses that tingled over his body, nose, and ear would do enough. The principal was to feel, not see.

In a sweep, as he hit the ground with a kneel, he dashed for the hunter. Like two animals in the jungle, they fought. Blade slash, after blade slash, it was deflected, but the intensity only rose. Certainly this tempo would leave this hunter useless. They grew closer and closer which each swing, and soon Tieru would use the momentum for one blow.

There was always a whole in an enemy's defense. No matter what, there was always a whole.

"DIE!!"

[Zephyr]

In the scream, in the jungle, in the heap of it all, Zephyr was cool. The pumps holding to the shimmering top brought a cold shiver through. Adrenaline had kept the sentient tempered, and focused. Through the black vise, eyes lit with enarmored delight. Such a worthy prey. Each swing, and swipe was delicate, and trained. This one was a warrior indeed. Zephyr kept up with him, with no haste, or imbalance.

The hunter was well-aware of the opponent's capabilities. Any false move, and it would be exploited. There was no room for fault on this champions part. Winning was the only objective it knew. Zephyr felt a grin warm it's face behind the mask. There was a sudden certainty as the light flashed pass once more, and it saw the prey's face. On his face was anger, fear, fright - things that could be used.

No expression was shown. Such an emotion was disallowed with the helmet, but Zephyr was confident. The demeanor made sure it was known, and when the hunter stepped back with one foot it was clear that the offensive stance was being taken. From the left the blade was coming down, but it wouldn't find it's destination. A knee had been risen, and another gut-buster was made.

No spit came out this time. No flim either, just blood. Crimson's lovely color ripped through the dark sheet that blanket the world in this hour, and Zephyr loved it. In the depths of the hunter's heart, there was a pulse of love that tremor through and it made the knee go deeper.

Zephyr wanted more...more pain.

[Tieru Ocarre]

Agony slither through his frame like a snake. A serpent of doom snided in his ear, and the old, haunting thoughts were resurrected. Crumpled in pain, he fell. Tieru's black had trickled over, burrying his shame. The silver hilt disengaged, and the blade dived back down into the hold. Those cherished, mystical crystals within were quiet, now, and so was the maker.

Tieru felt his knees hit first. The thud echoed through his frame like a single drop from a leaky fosset. Riddle with emotions he almost forgot he had, he felt foreign; different than himself, and weak as ever. His sweaty palm, and firm grip didn't know his saber hilt anymore. It had fell, and toppled to the earth.

Once more his face was re-acquainted with shock. Wide at the mouth, and wider at the eyes, he ached at his center. Only his knees kept him up straight, but not for long. A gasp pushed him down, and his hands touched the earth, panting for something. Air was the key word here, but there was more in that search of his breathing. He needed more than fuel to breathe. He needed fuel to fight more, and better.

Would he find it?

The doubt swarmed his mind. Defeat seemed to prevelant at this point. He didn't know what to do. Over him stood the stocky armor, and golden devil, but he could only sweat. Each drip along his face raising the volume of doubt flooding his hope to a drown. Somehow has plan to out-do this simple hunter had been foiled. Maybe he was just too rusty? Maybe he just didn't have it anymore?

He didn't know. He didn't care. All he had was life, now, and he had to use it. He had to fight for it. Hand weak, and in a shiver, he grabbed for the saber by his hand. One palm to the knee, he helped himself up, slowly. For some reason, he was allowed.

This hunter was too confident. Maybe he could use that against him..maybe...

[Zephyr]

A cackle shook the frame. The devil was inside that hull, and the evil he worked with was even more heavily fortified. This Jedi, filled with hate and fear, was simply a play-thing. Another target to be pushed to the limit, then totally destroyed by this devil's hands. Zephyr was only a name, a title, but within moved many faces and many figures. This paticular being was no vulture, no pacifist, or moral being. No, this one was not an easy fit in any description.

The cackle continued.

Even as the Jedi stood, there was no lost in this creature's confidence. Actually, it was more bolster by the perservance. The game was going to go on, much to the hunter's enjoyment. Eyes bearing through the black of the Zephyr mask, it watched the mystical man of the past, from the hookey religion, try to muster something. There would be nothing, this Zephyr wouldn't allow it.

Hands at rest at it's side, there came a silence. A lull had trickled in from nature. The quiet was filled with anticipation. Life wanted to run it's course, but the Zephyr would not allow. Not yet, at least. A huff fluffed out the vents, billowing into a large brush of air that seemed more like smoke clouds. Then, the silence was disturbed again. The Zephyr raised it's gautlents, grabbing at the gold. One clip, push, and flick, the mask was off and the devil was revealed.

A lineage settled in on the creature's face. From the peaceful, long-livers, was Hoon of the ancient Gen'Dai heritage. At first, there would be no reaction. Hoon almost was humanoid. The two eyes, strong pink skin, with violent teeth that spear from Hoon's mouth, Hoon was a humane in feature as such an exotic sentient could be. Yet, deeper, below the rough hide, sat a mindless destroyer with a life span too strong to easily undo. Before there were many, and taking in the time of galaxy at a rapidly different rate. Before there were few who took that time to unravel other creation's seconds. The most famous, Durge, but even he got caught up with time.

Hoon played to overhaul the chronometer, and date this Jedi with this day. This black-haired lightsaber handler would be branded, and he would see his enemy's face. Hoon smirked with glee at the possibilities. Devils have imaginations too, although sick. All sorts of vile, chaotic images flashed in the Gen'Dai's mind. Hoon had signed the contract, instructing no declothing or exposure to the identity behind the Zephyr, but it would not matter here.

No one else was around but a dead man walking. And soon, he wouldn't even be walking. Hoon warped the silence with hushed steps. Tearing through the darkness, the Gen'Dai zoomed forward. Tieru watched the impeccacle speed, but also the burst. In moments Hoon had swung out, grabbing at the Jedi's wrist. Tight and firm at the grip, the Zephyr yanked Tieru closer only to be greeted with a hard punch. Hand still tight on the wrist, the hunter watched as spit flew once again.

There was a lot of mucus packed up in this one. But there also was blood, and this Gen'Dai was going for it.

[Tieru Ocarre]

The grip, the fist, he wasn't allowed to stumble. He wasn't allowed balance either. Tieru was a mess. His spit flew through the air before he could think. Inspite of his training, his mystique, skill, persona, he was at folly. An evil boiled in the Gen'Dai and Tieru didn't know how to handle it. Still in a stupor, his knees became noodles and he trickled to the floor. Drooping over under the parental hold on his wrist, Tieru's head hung down. Hair falling over, he could barely see the oncoming traffic.

More punches, more fist, and more pain jolted through and at him. Tieru wasn't able to configure them all. Under the black hair sat a head in jumbles. Background noise flooded his senses, trying desperately to dull them. It was all to no avail. He could still feel the hunter's wraith. Each punch landed in a new place, returning sensation in a bruising heat that he had forgot.

Tieru wasn't sure how to escape.

Tieru wasn't going to escape. That had been made clear, but it wasn't so obvious. Tieru was still holding on to something. Whatever it was, it helped, though. Each punch was hard. Rocks would normally crack under such power, but Tieru didn't. The Jedi had a thread of hope to hold onto. Before this day, the future was bright. Whispers had spoke of the Jedi's resurgence and return.

The Jedi had that to hold to. He had that to breath for.

But it was hard. His legs dragged in the dirt. No strength was there to pull him up, and logic said not to try. Any resistance and the fist would only be harder and more punishment. Somewhere in the jumble of pain, heap of ache, and load of distraught he squeeze out a plan. Only a burst would open some room, and he had to use it.

In a pull and yank, the free hand was opened wide, and palm shown to the hunter's chest. An air pocket had been created, and the Force was to thank. Tieru called on it, used it, and an explosion blew them both back. Tieru was already in pain, the feeling would not be new. However, maybe, just maybe - the momentum would change.

Tieru only had hope. He had to keep hoping, it was the only way to survive.

[Zephyr]

Hoon was startled, not surprised. The air pocket blew, and so did the two. The Zephyr felt it before he knew it, though. Somehow the darkness had betrayed Hoon in this instance. The hunter could not see the hand, or sense it. Everything was so lost in the night shade there was no way to know all.

Yet, the Gen'Dai was not totally at lost.

Even as Hoon flew, hands out, and legs too, back coming ever closer at each mili-second to a stocky tree trunk he had a plan. Trained instincts were coming into play. As his body was toppled by the force of a thwarted nature (the Force) Zephyr reached down. A blaster was at the waist, in a holster, but it didn't require much to free. Only a flick of the wrist was needed, and a click.

The bolt blasted out again, quiet as ever. The aim was the target, and this time, the position was too great to miss. Both fighters were at odds, but Zephyr had the better half. Hoon was practiced, and seasoned. Experience would always trump sheer prowess, but Hoon seemed to have both here.

[Tieru Ocarre]

Anguish was the word. A complimentary thud came with it too. Tieru felt the crunch echo through him. The sound dominated his ears, and he crumpled. Something had broken, and adrenaline made it unsure. Already so much ache, he could only process through pain. Tieru gurgled his own blood as his hands flopped off in the dirt, and body lay limp.

He was tilted, pressed against the bark haplessly. Sitting in the mud, as the air pocket has placed him, he wasn't clear on what to do next. He wouldn't get the chance to do anything, though.

Before there was a chance to think, try to move, or decode the crunching bones coordinates another jolt bolted through. As his eyes widen he felt the word again. A stinging torched his upper chest. The blast had hit him, and good. His muscles winced in resistance, but it was all futile.

Everything was futile.

The thread of hope was starting to be loosened, and he could only be crude with his language. Not a word could be made out, but he still spoke anyways. He had to communicate. He had the make the world know...They all needed to know, even though not a soul was near he was in hell.

Tieru screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

[Zephyr]

Satisfaction was Zephyr's word. In the coat of darkness a grin was born. A sharp, toothy, savage smile, ready to take the last bite. Hoon was still aching, though. His back had hit the tree hard. Slumped over, the only thing tight about his body was his hand on the blaster.

And no, he would not finish him from here.

He had a drive for more. The lust was about to foam over. Hoon picked himself up. Each inch at a time, with knees and legs at a buckle, the Gen'Dai found a stand. Only a little support came from the tree, but it wasn't required.

The Zephyr was using each second to come up with more than a blast. There was something that he had to tell this Jedi. It wouldn't be right. After such a bizarre encounter, the Jedi deserved at least some words before the big L caught Tieru up to speed. One step after another, the leaves crunched again as they had throughout.

Now, though, they were peaceful steps. No haste, just a deceptive tranquility. Zephyr revel in such contradiction. They made his organs twist, turn, and twirl in a thing near eurphoria. The smile on his lips hadn't faded, but grew. Now, it was a smirk, and now he was standing over the man, blaster in hand and pointed.

Another proud moment in the devil's career.

Only a sentence was offered.

"Say hi to the other Jedi I killed for me..."


BANG!!!