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Zenas Codrey
Oct 3rd, 2011, 07:29:08 PM
Zenas Codrey waited inside a damaged tower on Coruscant, hanging from its disused elevator shaft and listening to the world outside it. In the dim light his rust-red skin and slate grey clothing was nearly invisible. Only the white patches surrounding his eyes and the white-and-blue stripes of his montrals and lekku would give him away to any one who looked into the shaft. However, no other being had entered the tower--yet. Outside, he could hear the Imperial police and military forces mounting their search for him.

The howl of twin ion engines grated his nerves; the ubiquitous TIE Fighters had been prowling for him for hours now and still showed no signs of giving up their search. His patience, having finally met its limit, crumbled like a dam before the flood of his anger. He drew this anger up into his soul, feeding into hatred of his Imperial pursuers, and channeled it into the Force as he dropped down the shaft. He landed nimbly five floors below, cushioned by the supernatural power he commanded, and ran out through the open floor below.

No walls existed to hide his presence. Military policemen in more agile patrol craft spotted him, pointing and calling in his position to the TIEs and Stormtrooper units that waited to apprehend him. Zenas wove through debris, support pillars, and crates of materials to elude blaster bolts from the patrols, drawing his lightsaber to hand and igniting it. Then, the Togruta met the edge of the building and leapt out into the open air.

His booted feet made contact with the roof of a patrol craft for the very briefest possible moment before he flashed onward, crossing the remaining gap to brace himself on a ledge of the tower ahead. Here he paused and looked about, seeking his next escape route. The Force conducted his defense, delivering the oncoming projectiles from patrol craft back into their drivers, soldiers, engines, and repulsorlifts. Above, an Imperial-class Star Destroyer drifted lazily into view, and Zenas felt instinctively that it was the cause of his consternation. He climbed the building he stood upon by half-leaping, half-climbing using its ledges, window sills, and ornamentation, covering a distance of several stories before he finally saw one of the damnable TIEs that he'd been listening to all afternoon. It snapped off a dual laser blast that sizzled the air beneath him as he somersaulted from his high perch, landing with perfect balance on the edge of it port wing.

The pilot pulled his craft into a steep climb and Zenas hopped sideways and a little forward, landing on the craft's forward viewport. Quickly he thrust his red-bladed lightsaber into transparisteel, causing it to burst inward. He fell boots-first onto the pilot and stabbed him, cutting the body out of the pilot's chair and hurling it out into the lanes of speeder traffic that were disrupted by the fighter's unchecked ascension.

The TIE, now nothing more than a glorified platform, rose screaming toward the Star Destroyer. Zenas stood on the back of the pilot chair, his head and shoulders sticking out of the hole in the front, and turned his gaze to the capital ship above. A sudden blur of gunmetal gray caught his attention as he cleared the top of the tallest skyscraper, jerking his attention away from his goal. A TIE Interceptor tracked him, angling in to shoot out his fighter. He hadn't heard its engines over the ones just beneath his boots.

Zenas disengaged his lightsaber and clambered out onto his fighter's wing pylon, edging out away from the cockpit as the Interceptor banked sharply to bring him under its guns. The pilot fired and Zenas jumped out to it, intending to make a new elevator of the faster craft, but the pilot snap-rolled and presented the canted wing to the darksider. Zenas landed on the incline, slipping, and clutched the edge of the wing to keep from falling the many long kilometers to his death. Eleven more Interceptors began to circle their squadronmate to watch Zenas struggle.

One interceptor backed out of the circle and hovered, turning his craft to track the one Zenas clung to. A quick barrel roll threw the Togruta clear, and he could see the hovering starfighter track him. Zenas felt anger heat his body as he drew his lightsaber and swung it hard in an arc beginning from behind his head. The crimson blade met the Interceptor's emerald lasers and propelled Zenas head over heels towards the atmosphere. He enjoyed a brief moment of quiet solitude as the squadron, stunned, watched his arc. Then they came on, swarming up at him like a horde of insects. Several flashed up behind his back, preparing a maneuver which would let the squadron encompass Zenas in a sphere of starfighters. It would be a fatal maneuver for Zenas, but the darksider refused to allow them the opportunity to complete it.

The Imperial Star Destroyer he had wanted to reach was so close to him now. He pushed strongly with the Force, altering his arc and launching him out toward the capital ship's bow. He blazed by another Interceptor, narrowly avoiding collision with it's starboard wing pylon, and oriented his body to land. His heart lurched up into his throat as he descended towards the sterile whiteness of the Destroyer's hull. As he landed, perched on the balls of his feet at the very end of the mighty ship, the whole world stood still. Then he was off.

Zenas raced towards the distant bridge spire, weaving and jumping around and over obstacles as he navigated the irregular metal formations that comprised the ship's hull. Turbolaser batteries tracked him fruitlessly, trying only to keep an eye on his progress. Above, the squadron of interceptors was joined by a fresh squad of ordinary fighters. The twenty-four craft danced above him, unwilling to fire and risk damage to the Destroyer. Zenas used the advantage for as long as he could, letting the Force guide his feet as he watched the movements of the starfighters above.

The Togruta slowed jump atop a turbolaser battery. As he'd hoped, an Interceptor failed to anticipate him and shot out ahead. He next made two prodigious leaps; first out to that Interceptor, then again towards the enormous viewports of the Star Destroyer's bridge. He ignited his lightsaber once again, holding it before him and spinning his body as a drill. The blade cut into the transparisteel window, whiting it out as it resisted his effort and making a tremendous grinding noise as Zenas pressed his weapon into it. He stopped and clung to the viewport's sheer surface by telekinesis, peering inside. At the commander's station there stood a human man with immaculately trimmed beard and hair, wearing the uniform of the Imperial Inquisitoriate. Zenas sneered and pushed himself off from the viewport.

His maneuver baited a shot from a rookie TIE pilot. Zenas watched with satisfaction as the lasers chewed through the viewport and opened his way. He pulled himself inside with his telekinesis and met the Inquisitor's lightsaber with his own.

The ensuing duel was a short, sweet, thoroughly victorious affair for Zenas. His Form V dominated the Inquistor's tiny, hesitant Form II with powerful overhead and lateral strikes, driving the pathetic human man back into the bridge's blast doors. Zenas leaned down and in toward the man's body, then shoulder-checked his opponent just under the ribs, forcing the man's breath out and launching him into the air. He followed with a lateral strike from right-to-left, cutting the man from left hip to right shoulder. Zenas released his lightsaber with his right hand, that hand snapping out to catch the severed torso by gripping the human's hair.

He held the remains before him, smiling with pride and satisfaction. This was the man who'd ordered his bounty, the man who had made all his life hell to that moment. Zenas tighted his grip on the human's hair, his smile turning to scowl as the human's facial hair melted away. Under Zenas's hand, the hair turned thick and ropey, turning from brown to bright red. The skin under the scalp became a rich, vibrant blue, travelling down the forehead to eyes that streamed with tears of pain. The torso's last attached arm curled up hesitantly, and the human spoke plaintively with a woman's voice.

"Sir...sir? We're serving dinner now. Please let me go."

Zenas Codrey
Oct 3rd, 2011, 07:53:54 PM
Zenas's eyes flared open, regarding the woman with undisguised hostility. His hand twisted, making her flinch and squint her eyes shut. He took her in, his breathing becoming heavy and erratic as anger ruined its steady rhythm. She was dressed in the rough brown clothes of the ship's volunteer crew. In her right hand, the one the Inquisitor had lost in his dream, she clutched a broken toothpick. Zenas blinked hard, shaking his head and forcing his hand open. The woman, now free of him, overbalanced from her squatting position and fell to her rump in front of him, ruefully rubbing her aching scalp.

Zenas looked around, seeing the ship for the first time in twelve hours. The refuge ship, consisting mainly of his large, open space, was packed with people fleeing the Empire. Ordinarily he hardly had room to move, but now he saw there was a large circle of clear flooring spread out around him. Across the room at the far wall stood a line for serving food, and many beings were lined up with cracked plastic trays to await whatever the galley cooks had managed to scrape together. Behind the serving line a group of men and women of various races giggled and pointed at him. Suddenly, the meaning of the broken toothpick and the empty space around him became all too clear.

The Force had become active within him in his sleep, radiating a dangerous presence that had caused his fellow refugees to instinctively shy away. This woman had been the unlucky crew member to draw the short straw and be tasked with trying to wake him for the evening meal.

"I...I'm sorry," he strained through clenched teeth. "I suppose I was having a bad dream. I didn't mean to harm you." The woman stood, scrambling backward as fast as she could, and retreated into the kitchens. Zenas stood and sighed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His back and butt were sore from leaning and sitting on the cold metal of the wall and floor, causing him to lurch a little as he collected his threadbare blanket and moved toward the serving station. He collected a tray and turned idly to look back at where he'd come from; the spot was now hidden in the mass of people that had spread out without his presence to keep them away. He sighed and slapped the tray onto the countertop as the line advanced, pushing it along slowly before him as he accepted food and drink from the servers.

It'd been months, maybe a year, maybe more since the bounty had been placed upon him. The stress of it had ruined his sense of time, his sleep cycle, and his short-term memory. He couldn't even recall how much his bounty had been for, and though he hadn't seen any notices regarding it for quite a while, the stream of hunters who came looking for him was all he needed to know the Empire still wanted him.

It'd also ruined his search for his mother, Tala. He'd abandoned her years ago on Naalol, where she'd worked as a civilian on an Imperial base after the two of them had been captured by slave traders, and then rescued by Imperial troopers. She'd found companionship there with a human, and Zenas, unable to comprehend it after having suffered much bullying at the hands of the human children, had seen it as a betrayal. He'd gone out into the galaxy, learned the ways of the Dark Side, and then begun to bring those skills to bear in a vengeful quest to re-earn his mother's love and loyalty.

All of it had come to pieces now. He wasn't even sure he wanted to find her anymore. Part of his mind gnawed at him, telling him that if she truly did love him she'd have found him by now. It told him not to waste his energy on someone who didn't care enough to give chase to him when he'd run out that day, ages ago. It told him to hate her, too, and to hate himself for not being good enough to keep her loyalty. Certainly he hated himself, but somehow could not level the hatred in his heart at his mother.

Zenas carried his tray of food and drink carefully out to one of the overturned supply crates that served as tables and set his meal upon it, then bunched his blanket up into a cushion and knelt upon it, staring hard at orange and green paste that constituted the majority of his dinner.