Wandering the Halls of Bast

[Morgan Evanar]

Treading carefuly, Morgan slowly worked his way through the many textured halls of Bast Castle. It was decepitvely larger than it first appeared, going down deep into the rock below.

Ordinarily, Morgan would have simply continued his way through, but something about this partictular corridor held his attention. He stood and stared for what seemed to be an hour, and gradually his attention wandered twoard the floor. He examined the thin layer dust and grime that coated it, and stared hard.

Footprints slowly appeared to Morgan's keen eyes. They were human ish. He crouched, and follwed them to a point in the wall, where they promptly dissapeared. In fact, one seemed to be shorn in half at that point.

Puzzling indeed, and of interest.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

(ooc) Actually, Hob's lair is accessed through a secret passage hidden beneath the floor in one of the walk-in closets scattered around the castle. It even has a little sign on it reading "Sight's Closet" that's looks like it's been etched in by a fingernail. Feel free to knock at any time. :)

[Morgan Evanar]

OOC: well, I kinda figured that hob would have more than one way to get around. *shrugs*

[Evil Hobgoblin]

(ooc) Actually, he does, but the two secret passages that lead from his room go either to a cliff, or to the vent system. He has yet to build a third that leads to the roof.

On the other hand, you don't know that yet. :)

(ic)
Morgan suddenly felt eyes upon on him, as though there was another presence in the corridor watching his investigative efforts. The presence was not hostile, just curious.

After a moment or two of this curious watching, the presence seemed to fade and disappear, as though it had gone off to check on something. It returned a short while later, bringing with it something else that was a great deal more malicious in nature.

This second something took shape in the form of a small, misshapen dwarf walking from out of the wall where the footprints led. ~ There are many of those, yes,~ the image states, indicating the wall it has just walked through. ~ Hob uses them to travel quickly, when needed..~

The image suddenly stares at Morgan. ~ What do you want?~

[Morgan Evanar]

~ "I've never been able to quite figure that one out, but, short term: Familiarizing myself with Bast's layout."~

When Morgan was crouched down, the image of the missahpen figure was a half head taller than Morgan. He straightented, and glanced up at the ceiling. About 2.7 meters. Not good for mobility. Morgan kicked himself for not paying enough real attention to his general surroundings. Then again, Cloak hadn't said much about dangers in Bast .

Something about this Hob seemed annoyed, like someone had not allowed them his duty, like he had been slighted.

Not worth the trouble. I'll leave.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

The image lifted and clenched it's right hand and abruptly, a chokehold was applied to Morgan's neck. ~ Dinnae leave so soon, lad,~ the illusion speaks. ~ Hob was just getting t'know ye.~

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan's fingers flexed by his sides as his throat was being slowly crushed. His breathing was getting ragged. Sputtering and coughing, his mind turned through ideas.

The air around Morgan seemed to shimmer and shift, and so did his presence in the Force. Moments later, an extremely distorted gasp echoed down the corridor.

Silently, Evanar worked at finding his unseen attacker, winding his way through the corridors.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

It wasn't long before Morgan came upon a short, stumpy figure standing in the middle of the hallway he was in. ~ Hob can feel ye, lad,~ the dwarf projected. ~ Yer presence stands out against the chaos of Vjun like a bubble under water. And Vjun's choas is a chaos Hob has lived with for a long time.~

The dwarf beckons with one hand. ~ Come, lad. Make yerself visible and prove ye are worthy t' be in Bast's corridors.~

[Morgan Evanar]

"WhoOOo the frellllll areeEEeee yooouuu, aaaNnDdD whiiieeeeyyyy shooouuuuldd IiiiIii prooove annnnyythiiiiing!" Morgan's voice tore through the air in the usual distorted fashion, but louder.

There were few things in life that made Morgan's blood boil. Being followed was near the very top of his list. Part of it was the danger that somone following him would have presented a few years ago. Some was that they had gotten away with it for a measure of time, and that made him angry at himself.

Slowly, the air about him rippled with his rage, light distorted as if one were looking through a shallow pond that was being rained upon.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob put forth his palm, as though lazily pushing something over. A Force wave erupted from that palm, speeding down the corridor towards the flickering light. ~ Because if ye don't, lad,~ Hob stated above the rushing noise of his own attack. ~ Hob will kill ye.~

[Morgan Evanar]

OOC: I'm hoping my response is in line with what you think you did, because I honestly have no idea what a force wave really is. Also, Morgan runs something like a 4.0 40meter dash.


IC:
Air tore and screamed with Hob's manipulation of the Force, rippling twoards Morgan. His image righted itself, but his overal presence remained shifty. The wave continued on its way, and Evanar lept, grazing the ceiling. It bobbled him in the air momentarily, smacking his body against the stone before passing down the corridor. He hit the ground on all fours, and bounded to his feet, tearing across the stone twoards Hob at a dead run.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

(ooc) It looks okay.

(ic)

Hob grinned and swiftly raised a hand. They always thought speed would save them, didn't they? Hob would prove this one wrong.

The Force coalesced around his hand, and not far away it did the same thing, but on a scale the length and breadth of the hallway. And then abruptly, a wall of pure physical force sprang into being mere yards in front of the speeding Morgan.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan's slits-for-pupil's dialated as a wall was formed in front of him, air particles packed tighly together. Had he not been more than mildy irritated, he might have apreciated his natural inclination twoard his night vision when angry and combat- ready, for it had just saved him from smacking headlong into a veritable wall of air.

His feed skidded as he sort- of backpedaled, shoes squealing for purchase. Morgan reached into his coat, and pulled free a massive handgun, loaded with ferrous cored ceramic jacketed rounds. Raising it, he squeezed the trigger, sending a fifty caliber slug at Hob.

The slug hit the wall of air with a loud thump, but continued, direction altered (it now sped for Hob's shoulder instead of his chest0, and a massive decrease in speed and kinetic engergy, down from the tremendous 1500 meters per second to a paltry 150. Still, the slug was fifty caliber, and it had just enough mass to break bones.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

It was a curious-looking device that Morgan had pulled from his clothes, no question. The way Morgan wielded it seemed to indicate that it was a weapon of some kind that shot deadly pellets at its' victims. Speed seemed to be the key to the weapon's attack. Perhaps later, Hob would acquire one and do tests with it.

Instinctively, Hob's outstretched right hand formed a fist and lifted upward. A blue aura surrounded the fist and arm, an aura of pure physical force just like the wall.

The pellet impacted on the Aura of Force, but unfortunately for Hob, it did not stop.

Fortunately, however, it did stop when it encountered the bone in his arm.

Hob's eyes shot wide open with pain, and the Aura of Force disappeared as he clutched his arm where the entry wound was. He could feel the bullet lodged in a large crack in the forearm's bone, and it hurt.

Abruptly, his eyes went bloodshot, and Hob fell over, stunned into shock.

[Morgan Evanar]

OOC: Many tommorows later, after Chris finally gets his rythm back...

IC:
Morgan catuously treaded the distance between him and Hob. He stopped about six feet away, and put his massive handgun back in it's holster. He drew the sword strapped across his back, and put the sharper than a razor's edge tip to the unusual creature's throat. A tiny droplet of blood appeared at the contact point.

He stared down at Hob for a minute before speaking a very simple word.

"Yeild."

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob's arm shouted pain at him, but the tiny pinprick on his throat brought him back to his senses. His bloodshot eyes focussed on Morgan and his teeth ground together.

Hob initiated his ability of projective telepathy, but instead of sending words, he sent the screaming agony his arm was feeling directly into Morgan's brain.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan's jaw dropped open, and his eyes went wide, mainly with the sudden surprise that his arm throbbed like somone had just shot it. The sword dropped to the floor, landing with a "clang" that resounded through the halls. Responsivley, his body dumped even more adrenaline into his system, leaving only a throbing sensation in his arm. He couldn't full convince his body that it was perfectly altogether, but one arm certainly was still fucntional. With his good left arm, he reached down and wrapped his long, strong fingers around the smaller thing's throat.

"Stop it." Morgan hissed through clenched teeth, and the only response he got was a defiant gaze. Suddenly, he twisted, lifting the small creature into the air and slamming him hard against the wall.

"Stop it!" the words came through the growl that was now steadying in the back of his throat.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

The pain in his arm was lessening, and his concentration was a bit better. Even so, being slammed into the wall caught him by surprise, causing him a flash of pain in his mind.

He had the satisfaction of seeing Morgan wince as the pain was shunted into his mind as well.

Hob flexed his injured arm's fingers, and the was glad to note that he could feel his skin through the pain.

Morgan drew him back from the wall, probably to slam him again. Hob grinned and pulled the trigger of the weapon Morgan had holstered a moment ago using telekinesis.

[Morgan Evanar]

The slug sped from the chaber, through the end of the holster, through Morgan's coat, and burried itself into the stone floor. He turned for a moment, and looked over his shoulder at the new hole in the floor a meter behind him. Slowly, he swung his gaze back twoard the Hobgoblin, growling louder.

Evanar tightend his fingers around Hob's throat, and smashed him against the wall with a bone-jarring crunch. He pulled him back, and held the strange thing at eye-level with him. As soon as orientation began to set in, (which Morgan judged by his steadying gaze), he repeated the exercise.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob's head slammed into the wall again. He ground his teeth in frustration at being manhandled. If there were any one thing Hob truly could not stand, that was it.

As Morgan drew him in for what was probably another slam, Hob gave him a swift kick to the nuts.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan flinched, but likely not as much as the short creature expected him to. Lady De'Ville had taught Evanar a very valuable lesson in their spar.

Wear protection.

rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaARRRARRRRRWWWRR! Morgan spun, and threw Hob against the other wall. There was splat punchuated by a crunch. Something broke. Slowly, he stalked across the corridor, examined the downed Keeper of Sight, and began to stalk of into the darkness that lay down the corridor.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob staggered to his feet. Morgan had made a fatal mistake by turning his back on Hob.

The dwarf clenched his good hand and abruptly caught his opponent in an invisible vice-grip, immobilizing him and slowly crushing him.

[Morgan Evanar]

-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-.

Morgan groaned as the air squeezed out of him slowly. Breathing began to get labored and slow. He thrashed, but the invisible grip held firm. He couldn't even manage to fall over. Gritting his teeth, Morgan looked around, for something to throw with his weak telekenesis...

Nothing. Suddenly, the grip tightend more, and he coughed, weezing.
-----
I'll fin later.