Team 8 Run-On
Members: Furios, Silent, Teylas, Celevon, Kalon, Maelstrom, Alexander DelGotto
* Individuals must have at least 2 posts at 250-words minimum apiece to count as having participated
* Overall each Run-On must have a minimum of 20 posts at 250-words minimum apiece
* Cannot edit a post once someone else has made a follow-up post
* Cannot make consecutive posts; At least one other must have posted after you
All Run-On fiction must follow from weekly fiction posted.
Week 1 Details
* No cure can be found for the Plague
* It is not known how this Plague came to be
* Currently all Journeymen are in Stage 1 of the Plague; Equites and Elders are not yet affected
Stage 1 Details
At Stage 1 the Plague has taken hold, feeding on the Force abilities of infected. As it “feeds” on the infected it transfers some of that energy back into their bodies. At this stage the infected gain +2 to all physical attributes (STR, CON & DEX). Although the ability to summon the Force is fully removed, they do not appear to feel pain in the same way and appear to be channelling the power [CTP] constantly.
Any Force powers used on the Infected seem to reinvigorate them, rather than stop them. The infection takes such usage into itself and adds to its feeding.
Hall of the Watchman
Alex open his eye's with a harrowing image. He sat in the meditation chamber, confused to what he had just seen. It was Fremoc, Pepoi, the Fist of the Brotherhood, and head of the Grand Master's Royal Guard. Alex was unsure why he had seen what he had seen, but he has seen it. Fremoc was being attacked, and it looked like other members of the Brotherhood. Some even looked like members of the GRMG. Alex quickly stood and started heading for the door, as he did he pushed a couple buttons on his comlink. If there was trouble with the GRMG he needed to get to Antei. He may be a Jedi, but he agreed to protect Grand Master Ashen. As he arrived at the starport his ship was ready to launch. As the ship lifted off he went to his stateroom. The trip would take some time, so he decided to try and meditate on what was happening.
The Spike, GMRG Hanger
Alex exited his ship in the training armor of the GMRG. As he did he felt odd, like a sudden void came over him. Two other members came running up to him with blaster rifle trained on him. The first one ordered him to identify himself. When he did the second comment that the Grand Master must have taken his power too. Alex tried to reach out with the Force to see what was going on, to see if he could feel anything, but it was as if there was nothing there. Suddenly Alex realized that the connection to the Force was gone. A moment later a cloaked figure with Blue and silver armor under it and wielding a Blue lightsaber entered the hanger. He looked back down the hall and deflected several blaster bolts that had been fired at him. The two guardsmen the had stopped Alex, turned and fired at the figure. Alex quickly subdued the two unknown guardsmen as the Cloaked figure approached, deflecting blaster bolts as he did. Alex took cover behind some cargo containers, and waited for who ever was coming down the hall way. Four human males came running into the hanger, screaming a battle cry as they did. They fired at the figure who directed the bolts back at his attackers. One was struck in the chest, as Alex fired at the lead attacker, the cloaked figure leaped at the remaining two, and struck them down with a flurry of blows. He slowly walked back toward Alex, keeping his saber at the ready.
Alex lowered his carbine, “What is going one, why did they attack?”
“All the Journeyman of the Brotherhood are revolting. They believe the Elders of the Brotherhood have taken there power away.” As he go closer Alex could see his brown hair and the scar on his left eye.
“Why would they think that, it makes no sense. But I did find it odd that I was not able to feel the Force once I was on Antei.”
“The revolt has been going on for days,” as he said that he realized that Alex was not acting like the others. “Why don't you think the Elders took away your power?”
“Because Master Drodik would not do that, and only a few Jedi in history have ever been able to do that”
“Jedi?” The human shook his head. “Did you just say Jedi?”
“Yes, I am Jedi Knight Alexander DelGotto, from the Order of Oden-Urr. I believe you call it the House of Oden-Urr.” Alex smiled, “And you are”
The cloaked figure just stood the in silence for a moment. “We need to get out.” The cloaked figure started heading for Alex's ship.
Main Hold, Shrouded Blade,
Iziz Hangar, Onderon, Japrael System, Inner Rim
Celevon Edraven stretched, sweat pouring down his lithe figure as he finished his morning exercises. Three days prior, the Templar had awoken in the quarters he had been reassigned to when appointed Battleteam Leader, wondering why his comlink was going off. One was a report about a mysterious plague affecting some of the Force Users in the galaxy. Their power wasn’t gone, however, just blocked. The Onderonian immediately sank within himself, searching for his own power. Celevon could feel his own tightly leashed power simmering just beneath the surface, coiled like a snake prepared to strike. He had discovered his Journeyman Battleteam members had already succumbed to the infection.
“Edraven! What did you do to us?!” Valhavoc, the only Dark Jedi Knight in Spectre Cell, roared in fury whilst the two Jedi Hunters and one Protector stalked around the Assassin: Anigrel, Saarin Vahn and Xel Jen’ari.
“I didn’t do anything, Val. I don’t have the ability to call on the Force at the moment either,” Celevon explained calmly, a slight frown across his features. “Or have you failed to notice the fact that I’m not carrying my lightsaber?”
“You’re lying,” Anigrel stated, a look of hunger in his eyes before the quartet lunged at the Templar as one. The Onderonian swiftly drew his katana from over his shoulder in a full overhand slice, denting the hilt of Valhavoc’s lightsaber, knocking it from the Knight’s grasp.
As they rushed forward to attack once more, the Assassin drew a knife he kept in case of situations just as this, the blade coated in senflax with his off-hand in a reverse grip. All it would take to introduce the potent sedative to the bloodstream was a single cut through the skin.
Celevon sliced through from the Knight’s right pectoral, almost to the shoulder before blocking an attack from Xel with his katana. All of their strength, speed and endurance had been boosted for some unknown reason, though the Onderonian was not suffering the madness that came with the sickness.
Spinning, the Templar slid the tip of the dagger up Anigrel’s arm, immediately turning to fend off an attack from Saarin. Ducking, Celevon jabbed the blade into Xel’s side, yanking the blade out and twirling it in his hand before the Onderonian struck Saarin in the shoulder. The effects were almost immediate, all four of the attackers dropping to the ground less than ten seconds after the sedative entered their bloodstreams. The entire fight had taken less than two minutes.
“This is Templar Edraven to the Summit Guard. What’s the situation?”
The response was immediate. “Stay in your quarters. A plague has spread, infecting Journeyman. A lockdown is currently being enforced, Captain.”
Before the Assassin could respond, the Quaestor commed in. “Celevon, stay in your quarters. You may be infected. We can’t take the chance of you attacking anyone.”
“I just got attacked by all of the Journeyman in my Battleteam. They’re sedated and tied up in the locker room of the BTHQ,” the Assassin reported.
“You need to stay there, then. One of the Summit Guardsman have already been killed and they’re being exceptionally violent. Please, heed my-” Celevon cut off the comlink, already moving to his quarters. All personal items were already in a large duffel. It would just involve grabbing it and leaving. Less than ten minutes later, the Assassin’s personal ship was rising through the atmosphere.
The Assassin ashed his cigarette, idly glancing over at the hilt of his lightsaber before reaching for his comlink, typing in the link of one of his old contacts. “Kalon. This is Celevon, from Arcona. Let me know how you’re doing, over.”
Silence was the only response.
Each pump of his heart sent a new tremor through Arenos as he looked himself in the mirror. Even in the dim light of his quarters, it was very apparent that he had seen better days. The mere sight of himself had frightened the Novice into shutting his eyes immediately.
His eyes burned, as if embers had been placed underneath his eye lids and stoked by a bellows. Dirt and grime clung to him, where sweat had carried away the filth that ran down his body. Streaks scattered his face, where sweat had dried to leave nothing but empty canals of bare skin amongst the dirt that caked the rest of his body. He did not remember the panic that had caused him to cover himself in mud to cool down.
He had been sweating for hours; hours spent staring at his own hollow reflection. He fought to open his eyes and stare at himself again, fought that fear that struck him like a bolt of lightning. With a few deep breaths, and a feeble attempt to calm himself down, Arenos finally opened his eyes.
That man who looked back at him was hardly the Dark Jedi that had entered the Academy a scant few months ago. The doppelganger that stared back at Arenos from his own eyes was a shell of the man he once was. The hole in his soul, that space that the force had occupied within the young Novice his whole life had become a gaping chasm that grown to consume him. It stank of fear and fury, like a wild animal caught within a trap.
He was helpless, a beast caught in a snare. What was his by right, by birth had been struck from him. How had he been reduced to such a creature? He looked to find the predator that had trapped him, tried to fight back the gaping maw that had devoured his gift. As the dread of emptiness washed over him, as the fury filled in that gaping hole, his claws had streaked through only empty air.
Pain shot through his hand as another tremor shook his body, followed by the hot kiss of blood down his arm. Arenos looked to his hand, where he still held his signature dagger clenched between the soft flesh of his fingers. He barely remembered grabbing the blade, the pain forcing him to stay focused for only a short time. A growl escaped his lips as he unclenched his fist, the blood-marred blade dropping to the floor in a clang.
He roared as his bloody fist connected with the mirror in front of him. His ears ringed from his own cry, and they were soon joined by a strident signal from the hall. The sirens of the fire alarm had hit his ears the exact instant the smoke had stung his nostrils.
Fear tore Arenos from the broken shards of glass at his feet. Still clothed in tatters, Arenos grabbed his bloody blade from the floor and charged the door. he collided with the smoke in the hallway like a wall, but not even that could stop him.
He would not be caged, not have what was left of him taken. Arenos charged down the hall of the Arconan compound with his dagger clenched tightly in his bloodied hand. It was time to find those responsible and make the hunter, the hunted.
Kalon turned another corner, his face covered in sweat as he rushed along the empty hallway towards the hanger. He had not understood much about what had happened, but what he did know was that he could no longer feel the force and that he had to get of the Invicta. Thankfully there were not that many Dark Jedi presently aboard the Invicta. As he reached the end of the hall he turned another corner which led directly to the hanger and to where his StealthX was awaiting him.
“Halt!” A voice rang out and Kalon looked up too see a short man armed with a stun baton and clearly dressed in the Black, Grey and Red uniform of the Arcona Navy Corps, the ranking pins on his uniform signalled him as a Petty Officer. Besides him was another man in an identical uniform and also carrying a stun baton.
“I am a Dark Jedi Knight of Clan Arcona, you will stand aside!” Kalon growled, his hand slipping over his lightsaber hilt.
“This ship has been placed under a quarantine along with several other ships in the fleet, you shall not pass.”
The short man's reply was quick and to the point, Kalon was almost surprised that the Petty Officer was either brave or stupid enough to stand against him. He smirked.
“Well I’m getting off this ship, and you’re not getting in my way!”
Kalon saw the attack coming in the Petty Officer’s eyes. The stun baton was swinging at him, but Kalon was already moving. Ducking under the baton, the Dark Jedi twisted round and placed a strong punch for the back of the shorter man's neck. As he crumpled to the ground the other Petty Officer converged on Kalon, baton in hand. With the fallen soldier’s in his possession, Kalon met the opponents blow. His strength compared to the thin man caused the Petty Officer to stumble back. The Mandalorian shot out an arm towards the soldier to force him pack with Force Push.
Too late did Kalon realize that he had no control over the Force, nothing happened to the fortunate Petty Officer and he just stood there as Kalon’s face turned to an expression of disgust. His breath sounded impossibly loud, his blood like thundering rapids. The Petty Officer came at him at what seemed like deliberate slowness. The Dark Jedi stepped forward and thrusted down with his leg just at the right time. His foot made contact with the Petty Officers thigh and as he kicked into the leg he felt it give way, followed swiftly by a sickening crack. The Arconan Soldier screamed in pain and collapsed to the floor, giving Kalon a clear path to his StealthX. Sprinting towards it he wasted no time opening the cockpit and sliding into the craft. Once inside he activated the engines and waited for all the systems to fully warm up.
Just then a flashing light appeared on the Mandalorian’s wrist mounted comm link. He reached down and pressed the button. A voice came through, though filled with static the unique tone easily identified the speaker to Kalon before he had even stated who he was.
“Kalon. This is Celevon, from Arcona. Let me know how you’re doing, over.”
After waiting several moments to finish activating all the systems on his ship, Kalon lifted his wrist to his mouth and pressed the button to reply.
“Celevon, this is Kalon here. I don’t know what's going on but I can’t use the force...”
He licked his cracked and dry lips and continued to speak.
“...I’m getting off of the NSD Invicta, it seems that there is some sort of quarantine in effect on the ship but I’ve managed to override the hangar bay door controls temporarily. Can you transmit to me your location. I’m coming to meet you, over.”
Clicking the button to stop sending his message, the Dark Jedi Knight pulled up and back on the joystick and the StealthX smoothly left through the open hangar. It would be awhile before the Crew realised what was going on and by the time they realized, he would be a long way away.
“Roger that, Phoenix. Transmitting now,” the Templar replied, transmitting the coordinates to Kalon. Due to hearing the callsign so often and with the Knight being in his StealthX, it only seemed appropriate. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
One standard day later,
Iziz Hangar Bay, Onderon,
“Nice to see you again, Kalon,” Celevon spoke up, his tone warm yet reserved. There was no way to know if the madness associated with the plague had taken hold of the Qel-Droman yet.
“Likewise, Celevon,” the Pilot responded, glancing in an appreciative manner at the Shrouded Blade. “Nice to finally see your ship. Is it based off Darth Revan’s personal vessel?” Kalon asked, studying the dark silver and black ship.
“Yes, indeed. It was called the Ebon Hawk, by the way. You can come aboard freely. I’ve rented out this hangar for the next month. You may want to engage the security system, though. I’ve already dealt with one mechanic trying to restore the Blade to it’s default factory settings,” the Sniper replied, smirking slightly.
“I trust you didn’t harm him too badly?” The Void Squadron pilot asked, already activating the security system which would shock anyone who attempted to access the StealthX without the proper clearance codes.
“Broke his wrist in three places,” Celevon shrugged, the ramp closing behind them. “Now that we’re in private we can talk freely. I’ve read up on the plague. They’re calling it the ‘H-Virus’. All of Arcona is in quarantine, not just the vessels. I escaped Galeres’ HQ after subduing my Battleteam. Knocked them out with senflax and healed the wounds before locking them in. How are you feeling, mate?”
“I feel... hollow. There is a stark emptiness within me where the Force should be. I don’t recall never having it at my will. It feels as though a part of me has died,” Kalon replied sadly.
The Sniper closed his eyes, extending his senses toward the other Arconan. “You’re power is still there. It’s just blocked off and inaccessible to you at the present time. I want to show you something,” the Assassin activated the holo-message he had received an hour after the Knight had entered hyperspace:
A white-robed figure stood there as he appeared in blue. “If you’re receiving this message, the plague has spread to the far reaches of the Galaxy. I am Alexander DelGotto, Jedi Knight of the Jedi Order of Odan-Urr, more commonly known as House Odan-Urr. This is a private frequency, known only by members of the Grand Master’s Royal Guard. I am infected by the plague, but I retain my sanity. I have not succumbed to the madness that takes over. Please, we need your aid. We need refuge to either cure this disease or wait it out. My holo-frequency was uploaded to your command console the moment you picked up on this message. DelGotto out.”
The Arconans were quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought. After Celevon lit up a cigarette, the Pilot finally broke the silence. “So, what do you think?”
“I looked him up. He does exist and is that rank. Everything he said is true. And we would be able to tell if the madness had taken over.” Celevon replied, taking a long drag off of his smoke. “I’m going to leave my lightsaber on the ship, either way. I can feel my heightened senses being dulled and clouding over even as we speak.”
“.. What weapon will you use, then?” the Qel-Droman asked curiously, having only ever seen the Assassin use his daggers and the lightsaber which was laying on the counter before them. A metallic slicing sound echoed throughout the Main Hold as Celevon pulled the katana from what the Knight had thought was a decoration, the light glinting off the blade as the Onderonian held it aloft.
“I think I’ll leave my customized one here. It’s time to try out the one I got in my travels, years ago,” the Templar smirked, ashing his cigarette. “Since you seem to like it so much, you’ve just been volunteered as my co-pilot. By the way, my callsign is Stalker.”
“If you’re receiving this message, the plague has spread to the far reaches of the Galaxy. I am Alexander DelGotto, Jedi Knight of the Jedi Order of Odan-Urr, more commonly known as House Odan-Urr. This is a private frequency, known only by members of the Grand Master’s Royal Guard. I am infected by the plague, but I retain my sanity. I have not succumbed to the madness that takes over. Please, we need your aid. We need refuge to either cure this disease or wait it out. My holo-frequency was uploaded to your command console the moment you picked up on this message. DelGotto out.”
Finally after the 30th time hearing the message, Silent took a deep breath. The force still flowed freely through him, the plague has yet to infect him.
“The plague will not infect you so easily my dear Exarch.” Plagueis said
“Why because the force that flows through me isnt my own but only a fraction?” Silent replied
“It could be one of the reason.”
After the Exarch’s death at his friends saber while being possed by the spirit of Plagueis, Silent was flashed clone and even though Silent knew he could see and hear the dark Lord while no one else could, they would say he simply had Echo Madness.
“Other of the GMRG will be going, its time we get going.”
Silent headed toward the hanger bay into his rebuilt Fury Class shuttle, now all he needed to do is get past the blockade.
Kalon had rarely flown with another person; he was used to the freedom a one seated starfighter could bring, though he was glad he had some company on this trip. It had been several hours since the Dark Jedi had set off from Iziz and they were well on their way towards New Tython, the Headquarters of the Jedi Order of Odan-Urr. The thought of seeking help from the Jedi gave Kalon a sickly feeling within his stomach and he felt that he should express his concerns to Celevon.
“I don’t like this.” He said.
Ashing his cigarette, Celevon turned to face the Mandalorian.
“Neither do I.” The Assassin replied. “But we need to find answers and so far no other opportunity has presented itself to us. Besides, if the Jedi of Odan-Urr are also suffering from the H-Virus then I doubt they would be in any mood to shoot us out of the sky.”
Kalon sighed, looking at his reflection in a small glass screen. His facial features were dry and worn, looking as if he had not slept for days on end. His complexion was completely contrasting to his clean yale blue and black Mandalorian assault armour. Finally sick of the drastic change in his face, Kalon picked up his helmet from the floor besides him and put it on. The warrior glanced over at Celevon, who had not finished his cigarette and was concentrating on flying the ship clear of the Japrael sector, so they could then activate the Shrouded Blade’s hyperdrive.
“Do you think that anyone else will have received the message from DelGotto?” Kalon asked, his voice more sinister through the vocal device installed into his helmet.
“More than likely, there are quite a lot of Royal Guard these days and the most sensible thing to do would be to follow the signal.” Celevon shrugged, flicking a switch on the console in front of him. “Its clearly evident that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.”
Suddenly, the cockpit was a haze of flashing red bulbs, Celevon’s head snapped towards the radar screen.
“Incoming fighters!” The Sergeant yelled. “Four TIE interceptors approaching the Starboard side in attack formation.”
“I’m on it!” The Mandalorian said, springing from the co-pilot’s chair, darting out of the cockpit, past the communications room, through the main hold and then up the ladder to the turret bay.
The ship shook as the Interceptors strafed over it, using the concentrated fire of the formation to lower the shields more quickly. Kalon had to give them credit, the pilots were good, but he was better. As the TIE ships came past for another run, Kalon locked on to them and squeezed the trigger. The fire from the turret clipped an Interceptor, causing it to collide with another which exploded.
“That's two down.” Came Celevon’s voice from the comm link.
“And two to go.” Replied Kalon, swerving the turret round to face the oncoming starfighters, once again he pulled the trigger and a third Interceptor exploded.
The fourth continued its strafing run, lowering the shields of the Shrouded Blade. It then pitched out of sight for several seconds as it came round for the next run, but Kalon was ready and as the squint prepared to attack it was torn apart by the intense fire of the Blade’s turrets. Celevon’s voice came in from the comm link once again.
“All enemy contacts eliminated, get back to the cockpit. We are out of the Japrael Sector and I am starting up the hyperdrive.”
“Roger that, Stalker.”
Kalon slid down the ladder and made his way back to the cockpit. His and Celevon’s conversation just before he left the Invictus must have been intercepted. Or perhaps the Interceptors were just pirates with nice equipment and training? Kalon shrugged to himself as he entered the cockpit, sitting back down in the co-pilot’s seat.
“Pirates.” Said Celevon, confirming Kalon’s suspicions in an instant. “They are a common sight around these parts.”
“TIE Interceptors are short-range fighters.” The young warrior replied, turning to face the Sergeant. “So where did they come from?”
“I’m not too sure-...wait a minute.”
Celevon checked the radar and flicked a switch on the console, a large dot appeared on the screen.
“There!” Said the Templar. “One Victory I-class Star Destroyer coming this way.”
“Well what are you waiting?” Kalon remarked, smirking under his helmet as Celevon pushed forward on the lever which then activated the Hyperdrive.
The stars blurred past the viewport of the cockpit as the Arconans breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like the Pirates scavenged more Imperial technology than we thought after the Emperor fell for good,” the Assassin quipped, leaning back in the pilot’s chair.
“No kidding. When and where in the hell did they find fully equipped Star Destroyers?” Kalon asked rhetorically, his voice distorted by the beskar’gam’s helmet. It did nothing to distort or conceal the incredulous tone in the Qel-Droman’s voice.
“Don’t ask me. I have no recollection of the time before I was twelve. Even then, I was not even several months old when the Emperor fell, if that,” the Onderonian mused, quietly pulling one of his knives from the sheath built-into the pilot’s chair.
The Mandalorian blinked, having thought it was a simple pattern in the material of the seat itself. Mental note: Keep an eye out for anything that appears to be decorative on this ship - It may conceal a weapon.
“We’ll be arriving on New Tython in one day’s time. Your best option would be to be prepared. From what I’ve seen, we have no idea how any of the Jedi there will react. Especially the ones who haven’t been infected and are already wary of everything and everyone,” Celevon spoke quietly, his thoughts already flashing ahead to the days to come. The lithe figure of the man began walking out, pausing only when the Void Pilot posed a question.
“Why do they call you Stalker? I know that wasn’t your callsign in Soulfire.”
“Sashar nicknamed me ‘Spook’. Stalker is what I am known as throughout the galaxy. That’s my ‘nickname’ for when I play assassin. A few of the others began calling that because I am like the Corellian Sand Panther. I stalk my prey and strike viciously. Unseen before then,” the Templar’s argent eyes seemed to glow as the figure stepped back into the shadows, disappearing from view after a second.
“Celevon?” Kalon called out warily, standing before placing his hand where the Galerian had last been standing visibly. As he expected, there was a wall there and not hollow anywhere. “What the... I don’t want to wind up in a shadowy room against him in a fight. That’s for damn sure..”