Dawn of Defiance: Buffalo NY

Bariss Piloting and Thoughts Bloodbeard

Three Trandoshan slavers don’t sound important, do they? They didn’t sound important to me, but one of them ended up being important to me … chuckle and his name was Bloodbeard.

As Rama, Kelyn, and I were walking around the lovely cave full of fungus and scum three Trandoshans that looked to be slavers were in our selected path about three meters away. One, a Trandoshan lacking his legs at the calf down and had made up for it with two pegged legs, whose name was Peggy remarked to Rama about some vague knowledge about his dead Twi’lek master. Of course that began a merry chase with the three Trandoshan slavers rushing to their nearby Z-95’s and us three following them by borrowing a close set of three other Z-95’s; I’d say that they were owned by slavers since the ones we borrowed were with the ones that the three Trandoshans used. Rama, Kelyn, and myself caught up to the slavers easily enough and I even scored a quick hit on one of the Trandoshan’s Z-95, after that though things went sideways.

*

Forward and to my right I barely see Rama flying after Peggy, backward and to me left Kelyn is trying to dodge the suicidal slaver, and forward and flying damn near every direction is this guy … and he’s comming me, “Well, you be Bariss eh? You won’t be hitting me, Bloodbeard, anymore!”

“Yea-No. I’ll get you, and you don’t know me.”

“Of course I do!”

I haven’t used my name here. … Am I actually famous enough for this random slaver to know me? Huh.

*

An opening appeared as Bloodbeard changed directions but seemed to take a little too long to choose his way, he was perfectly straight for a half a second and I fired. Bloodbeard was waiting for me, he veered out of the way. He was goading me by making a clear shot appear and then dodging it, but made a mistake of not changing his speed. Since his distance had not changed all I had do would be a swift action within the next half a second to get him lined up again. … I wasn’t thinking this straight then, but I did figure how to get another shot.

*

Fucker let me into feint! A slaver! Where do you think you’re going? I see you! Not so quick with your shifting after that feint!

My mind’s quickening with adrenaline, you’re movements are too slow now. That feint slowed you down with confidence, and there I see it, “I Have You Now!” The shot glances off Bloodbeard’s Z-95

“Quite the Mighty Blow Bariss!”

RAH!” I yell as a swift jab turns off the comlink. Blood from my own rage comes to the foreground of my sight as I lean forward closer to Bloodbeard. He’s weaving dodging, ascending and descending, and accelerating forward and back. SIX SECONDS of this flying banter and FINALLY! I see an opening pew Bloodbeard broke at the last moment.

AGAIN!? How could I have fallen for that!? I’ll kill you, you lizard fuck!

I swiftly turned after Bloodbeard soon enough to attack once more before he was out of my reticle, “I. HAVE. YOU. N…” Bloodbeard barrel rolls out of my blast just after I fire, “NOOOO!!!” I accelerate to the point where I nearly ram him and from there I keep him tightly knit into one sector of space. He tries to escape several times and cut him off by getting close enough to punch him in the throat. By keeping him in the dogfight he has nowhere to run and I slowly shoot his Z-95 to pieces, I’m reveling in his destruction so much my head hurts and chest aches with all the pleasure. I do miss here and there, but to be so close as to see Him and his frantic attempts to escape, satisfying. It’s almost a shame when his starfighter dies and he crashes to the ground. But instead of me landing and finishing this … lizard I am rewarded with a show since he crashed into a Rycrit nest. They are shy in the beginning, but one grows courage enough to pound on the Z-95 and work their way to Bloodbeard himself. I open my comm long enough to say, “I’d love to see you feint your way out of this.” As I lower my Z-95 closer for a better view.

Just before the one courageous Rycrit gets to Bloodbeard’s cockpit Rama flies over and I open my private comlink to him, “What’s up?”

“Shoot him.”

“I was going to watch him being eaten. Wait a while, the view’s nice.”

“Shoot him.”

Deliberating within myself whether or not to shoot and therefore give Bloodbeard a quick and clean death brought Tor to mind. I hear his incessant words in surround my head and pressure themselves into my mind. Tor shows me Darga, and now I see what’s in front of me with a calmer point of view, my old point of view. Watching someone being eaten alive easily reminds me of Darga who ate live sentients and was going to eat Moppo.

I. AM. NOT. DARGA.

I. AM. NOT. A. HUTT.

I fired one more time before the Rycrit got to Bloodbeard. I didn’t miss this time and he died quickly with some semblance of honor. This whole thing just leaves the bile of a Hutt’s palace in my throat.


Once Rama got his information and we regrouped with the rest of the party we headed to a cave where the Jedi Master that we were after war originally holed up. When we got there Oola found a dozen or so Twi’lek younglings and other Jedi that were killed, and set into a communal grave with a thin layer of dirt blown over them. Tor said that the cave was cursed by the Dark Side and that only soul destroying despair remained. What I felt was a lively explosion and continual burn of hatred that could not be described with actual flame.
We burned the slain, cremation being the Jedi way. While watching the bonfire roasting in my hatred the flames reminded me of home. Father had a tradition, when he returned home from his work he would greet mother, Gol, Bechesmy, and I and then listen to Duros masterpieces while watching the flames of a natural fire. We were the only family with a fireplace, but that was the least of the oddities of the Gigrig family. Watching the Jedi burn I heard some of father’s music and I began to only see the flames flicking out from the center, dispersing into waves of heated air and then nothing. My hatred turned into the flames themselves as I watched and listened. Fire to flame to heat to nothing. Red to hatred to anger to calm. As I listened to Ena Inrull, one of the greatest Duros composers, I relived my previous piloting with Bloodbeard. Missing an attack as I did should be expected, he was flying defensively enough to not even attack or make a distance in his fleeing, I should have pulled him into the dogfight sooner. Bloodbeard, no matter what his trade was, had earned enough for me to have taken him seriously. After the missed attack my adrenaline mixed with the rising anger and caused me only to see red, a dangerous vision. I need to remain calm. After all, if I can’t reasonably take down a slaver with no training, how should I expect myself to take on a properly trained individual who pilots and dogfights for a living?
I remember dad giving me copies of his music before I left, I think it’s time Mezerel learned the classics. Ena Inrull, Cyran Foll, and Izzed Nootka should keep me calm, controlled, and focused while piloting. I’ll take my time, be patient, and see what is there tactically. Like I used to see things.

Comments

Okay, I’m having quite the time getting * in the center of the page without suddenly having the rest of the document vanishing. Anyone know how to do that?

Zach

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