Jeran Conrad
Aug 12th, 2002, 03:19:30 AM
"Let go of me!" The scream rang out in the old streets of the sub levels of Courscant. A nasty place, it was. Filthy and full of odd stenches. Jeran heard the scream about a half block away. South, he thought. He picked up his pace and headed towards the yell.
"Come on, girl, you gotta have something we want!" One of the thieves laughed widly as he pulled at her dress. He looked to be no older than 17. The other three were about the same age.
"Yeah, give it up!" This one obviously had more muscles than brain. Any man who would follow a comment like that up was fresh outtta brains. He was tall and muscular. He would go down the hardest. The others were of regular build.
Shouldn't you boys be in bed? he spoke out into their minds. The four young men turned to see Jeran's dark figure standing in the light, a ghostly silouhette. He held a tall wooden staff upright at his side. The thieves immediately branded their weapons. Two vibroblades and a couple of clubs. Interesting array, though useless.
The big one stepped up, smilling. He would be happy to spill another's blood this night. Step on up, big guy. Jeran thought. The thug swung his heavy club with a decent might towards the cloaked one. Jeran stepped to his right lightly, easily dodging the blow. Shifting his staff to both hands he swung across his body, rapping the boy behind his knees, dropping him to the ground. The others advanced. The first came at Jeran on his now positioned right. The staff swung right to block another club shot and Jeran's left leg sidekicked the punk into the street trash.
From his left, a vibroblade slahed as his arm. Jeran shifted his center of gravity downward to avoid the strike and threw his weight upward. In a butterfly motion, he brought the staff down on the thug's arm, crushing his wrist as the vibroblade dropped to the ground. With the butt of the staff he back stabbed him to the chest, sending him stumbling into one of the walls and crashing to the street.
The last thief attacked Jeran from the rear with a medium sized vibroblade. Jeran twirled the staff into his left hand. He backed into the attacker and with his right hand caught the wrist of the man. Slamming his forearm down on his shoulder, he heard bone crack as the balde was dropped. Twisting the arm, he brought the thief in front of him. With one kick to the stomach he flipped the man to is back on the ground.
Just as the three had given up, the larger man rose to his feet. Jeran, with his back to the big thug, twirled his staff around his body and whirled around to face the thug. He held the staff out towards the man menacingly, bracing it with bis back and forearm. This was enough to change the man's mind. The thieves scurried off, pride and bodies beaten.
Are you ok? he spoke to the girl through her thoughts.
"Yes," she said. "Thank you. I--"
It's fine. Go home--you'll be safe there. he spoke again. he wasn't much of a conversationalist. As the woman shuffled away, he turned and crouched to the ground. He drew a handful of the dirt and smelled it. Then he sniffed the air. Someone else was here...had been here. Dark or light, he could feel a force signature disturbing the Force around him. He kept his senses alert, truly hoping for a friend. He had encountered enough foes for a lifetime--it seemed he only had enemies.
"Come on, girl, you gotta have something we want!" One of the thieves laughed widly as he pulled at her dress. He looked to be no older than 17. The other three were about the same age.
"Yeah, give it up!" This one obviously had more muscles than brain. Any man who would follow a comment like that up was fresh outtta brains. He was tall and muscular. He would go down the hardest. The others were of regular build.
Shouldn't you boys be in bed? he spoke out into their minds. The four young men turned to see Jeran's dark figure standing in the light, a ghostly silouhette. He held a tall wooden staff upright at his side. The thieves immediately branded their weapons. Two vibroblades and a couple of clubs. Interesting array, though useless.
The big one stepped up, smilling. He would be happy to spill another's blood this night. Step on up, big guy. Jeran thought. The thug swung his heavy club with a decent might towards the cloaked one. Jeran stepped to his right lightly, easily dodging the blow. Shifting his staff to both hands he swung across his body, rapping the boy behind his knees, dropping him to the ground. The others advanced. The first came at Jeran on his now positioned right. The staff swung right to block another club shot and Jeran's left leg sidekicked the punk into the street trash.
From his left, a vibroblade slahed as his arm. Jeran shifted his center of gravity downward to avoid the strike and threw his weight upward. In a butterfly motion, he brought the staff down on the thug's arm, crushing his wrist as the vibroblade dropped to the ground. With the butt of the staff he back stabbed him to the chest, sending him stumbling into one of the walls and crashing to the street.
The last thief attacked Jeran from the rear with a medium sized vibroblade. Jeran twirled the staff into his left hand. He backed into the attacker and with his right hand caught the wrist of the man. Slamming his forearm down on his shoulder, he heard bone crack as the balde was dropped. Twisting the arm, he brought the thief in front of him. With one kick to the stomach he flipped the man to is back on the ground.
Just as the three had given up, the larger man rose to his feet. Jeran, with his back to the big thug, twirled his staff around his body and whirled around to face the thug. He held the staff out towards the man menacingly, bracing it with bis back and forearm. This was enough to change the man's mind. The thieves scurried off, pride and bodies beaten.
Are you ok? he spoke to the girl through her thoughts.
"Yes," she said. "Thank you. I--"
It's fine. Go home--you'll be safe there. he spoke again. he wasn't much of a conversationalist. As the woman shuffled away, he turned and crouched to the ground. He drew a handful of the dirt and smelled it. Then he sniffed the air. Someone else was here...had been here. Dark or light, he could feel a force signature disturbing the Force around him. He kept his senses alert, truly hoping for a friend. He had encountered enough foes for a lifetime--it seemed he only had enemies.