Could the ship go any faster? Had the limits already been pushed? Demagol strained, angry in the cockpit of his prized Starfire. "WHY?" He screamed out against the glass, fist smashing against a panel in front of him. Buttons flashed, some of them turning into repetitive blips. His head was a storm, mind a mess and body potent with fury-induced adrenaline. The unbelievable had happened. The planet's gravity well was becoming a memory of the past already, the vast emptiness of space there for the Mandalorian's taking. That's not what he wanted, though. Through orbital debris he maneuvered, ancient broken vessels that very well could make him join their graveyard. Demagol was acting rash- reckless. Another shout, LOUDER, it echoed off the walls of his ship. "Why would she do that?!" rang out, as if expecting the AI in his ship to answer the question for him. It couldn't tell often what was rhetorical and what wasn't. All that he could think of was getting as far away as possible as quickly as his ship would allow. Still in his armor, the only missing piece the helmet which rolled across the floor of the hull as the ship turned and whipped through space. "It must be a trick- some sort of plan she has in the back of her head. Why- why would she just up and leave?" The Mandalorian's body fumed, hot like magma. There was no reason to be had in the wake of recent events.
Abandonment was always ever-looming.
Alone, again. Just like that. In a split second they were separated and almost without a fight. To meet her brother seemed like a doable option, something that they could work around. In the back of Demagol's head he thought it would help strengthen the bonds they already had. That she would make a choice and that he would be it. A mistake. Is that what he was to her? All that pent up emotion released in the worst of ways, taken out on the operational panel of Starfire's dash. Was he crying? What was fueling those tears? Demagol had never been the type to run away from his problems, so why now? Was he afraid? Afraid of the vulnerability that he had given up? Hand forward on the ship's thrusters, he refused to sit idly. Whatever this was, he had to get away from it. Had he family anymore? Was there an actual home for him to go to like there was for her? Unlikely. This ship had always been his home. It would likely be his grave.
The further Demagol got from Grezik's gravity well the more he thought he'd feel better. That wasn't the case. Instead, the anger ate at him voraciously, like a starved canine. Their journey together had been short, but was that their crutch? That they relied on so much so early on? In the face of a split path she had chosen her brother over him. It wasn't expected, and that's what made the ache in Demagol's chest hurt all that much more. That confidence he bolstered, that false bravado toward something he thought was surely in his favor. It was all for not, a portion of his world swept up and away from him in an instant. Try as he may, he couldn't make sense of it. The sickness in his stomach was due to his emotional distraught more than the ship's weaves and barrel rolls. He didn't know where he was going, broken fragments of rock quickly jetting past while he boosted in the opposite direction. Harsh instability had made Demagol foolish, his situational awareness completely nonexistent as he took his anger out on his ship and himself. Obliviousness was about him as blips came up on his radar, closing in on the rear flank of his ship. The Mandalorian flew with his eyes wide shut.
Only when the sound of pulsar blasts shot past his ship did he awaken from his coma of volatile. Immediately he was in action-mode, hands all about the controls of the ship to triangulate where all of the attacks were coming from. Judging by their formation and flight patterns he was able to distinguish what they were as he had dealt with them on numerous occasions before. "Fuckin' pirates." Teeth bared, a growl forcing its way through whatever openness could be found. Everything was red. Everything bled the same blood. That killer in him that he held moderated came forth, a beast that controlled his consciousness. Aerial acrobatics ensued as Demagol slammed on the decelerator and turned his ship on a dime, whirling and spinning straight toward the face of death. It was three on one. Fair odds. More pulsar shots rang out toward him and he returned in kind, evasively turning the ship so that no hits were taken on his end. A direct retaliation was likely unexpected by the pirates who assaulted the Mandalorian, quickly demonstrated as Demagol's first volley of shots ripped through the hull and cockpit of the centermost vessel. In moments of extreme adrenaline it was said that time seems to slow down. No. It was the opposite. Everything raced. Nothing was ever standing still. This meant that split seconds were even more important than previously anticipated.
"I am NOT in the mood to be FUCKED WITH right now."
The shot fighter pirate's vessel divebombed downward with thrusters on full blast, rendering it incapacitated while Demagol maneuvered his ship to bisect the remaining marauder vessels. They arced and split, which meant that they would both be temporarily on their own for the time being. Something that they should have avoided. Already the Mandalorian was seizing the moment, calibrating his ship's momentum to maneuver around and intercept one of the pirates as it was turning. Like a T-bone, but with lasers. There was little the pirate could do other than watch his shields go offline from an EMP shot and rail guns tear through his engine compartment like pieces of paper. Fire erupted from the back of the ship's hull, engulfing its mass until it reached the fuel reservoir and became the catalyst to a large explosion. Two down, one to go. Reckless abandon caught up with Demagol quickly unfortunately as the final stray pirate caught one of his rear thrusters with a lucky shot. The entire mass heaved forward, slamming Demagol's face up against the dash and spreading a laceration along his brow, the Mandalorian's helmet ricocheting off the inner walls of the ship. He was surprised it hadn't cracked him in the skull yet at this point. Blood trickled down his face, welling at the bottom of his respective eye. Again his voice roared forth, "I'm not fuckin' dying yet!" came in cadence with the ship performing a hard pivot with only one thruster active. It was now or never.
"Starfire! Boost shields! We're going in hot!" Punched forward, the ship lurched, inevitably tilted due to unequal engine thrust. That was all he needed though, rushing against death's blade as he fired off another volley of rail cannons and laser blasts. It was a scatter shot, but it found its home along the center-front of the oncoming ship. This time the explosion was immediate, but due to that Demagol was unable to see the debris and shrapnel that came straight for him like the detonation of a massive grenade. A last second yank of the directional stick stopped him from taking a full collision, but remedial shred was unavoidable as metal scraps hit his shields. More rocking ensued, the engagement thought to have been over until an entire loose door broke through his ship's shields and tore along the canopy. "FUCK!" A harsh yank in the opposing direction sent the ship spiraling out of control, motion sickness making Demagol feel nauseous. Suddenly there was more of a formal pull, the ship being dragged in a definite direction as the Mandalorian attempted to regain his space legs. He was being pulled into another planet's gravity well. It didn't look very urbanized- lots of forest on the surface. Would he survive the burn in? A bloodied face looked out the front. "..So this is it, 'eh?" This ship had always been his home. It would likely be his grave.
Abandonment was always ever-looming.
Alone, again. Just like that. In a split second they were separated and almost without a fight. To meet her brother seemed like a doable option, something that they could work around. In the back of Demagol's head he thought it would help strengthen the bonds they already had. That she would make a choice and that he would be it. A mistake. Is that what he was to her? All that pent up emotion released in the worst of ways, taken out on the operational panel of Starfire's dash. Was he crying? What was fueling those tears? Demagol had never been the type to run away from his problems, so why now? Was he afraid? Afraid of the vulnerability that he had given up? Hand forward on the ship's thrusters, he refused to sit idly. Whatever this was, he had to get away from it. Had he family anymore? Was there an actual home for him to go to like there was for her? Unlikely. This ship had always been his home. It would likely be his grave.
The further Demagol got from Grezik's gravity well the more he thought he'd feel better. That wasn't the case. Instead, the anger ate at him voraciously, like a starved canine. Their journey together had been short, but was that their crutch? That they relied on so much so early on? In the face of a split path she had chosen her brother over him. It wasn't expected, and that's what made the ache in Demagol's chest hurt all that much more. That confidence he bolstered, that false bravado toward something he thought was surely in his favor. It was all for not, a portion of his world swept up and away from him in an instant. Try as he may, he couldn't make sense of it. The sickness in his stomach was due to his emotional distraught more than the ship's weaves and barrel rolls. He didn't know where he was going, broken fragments of rock quickly jetting past while he boosted in the opposite direction. Harsh instability had made Demagol foolish, his situational awareness completely nonexistent as he took his anger out on his ship and himself. Obliviousness was about him as blips came up on his radar, closing in on the rear flank of his ship. The Mandalorian flew with his eyes wide shut.
Only when the sound of pulsar blasts shot past his ship did he awaken from his coma of volatile. Immediately he was in action-mode, hands all about the controls of the ship to triangulate where all of the attacks were coming from. Judging by their formation and flight patterns he was able to distinguish what they were as he had dealt with them on numerous occasions before. "Fuckin' pirates." Teeth bared, a growl forcing its way through whatever openness could be found. Everything was red. Everything bled the same blood. That killer in him that he held moderated came forth, a beast that controlled his consciousness. Aerial acrobatics ensued as Demagol slammed on the decelerator and turned his ship on a dime, whirling and spinning straight toward the face of death. It was three on one. Fair odds. More pulsar shots rang out toward him and he returned in kind, evasively turning the ship so that no hits were taken on his end. A direct retaliation was likely unexpected by the pirates who assaulted the Mandalorian, quickly demonstrated as Demagol's first volley of shots ripped through the hull and cockpit of the centermost vessel. In moments of extreme adrenaline it was said that time seems to slow down. No. It was the opposite. Everything raced. Nothing was ever standing still. This meant that split seconds were even more important than previously anticipated.
"I am NOT in the mood to be FUCKED WITH right now."
The shot fighter pirate's vessel divebombed downward with thrusters on full blast, rendering it incapacitated while Demagol maneuvered his ship to bisect the remaining marauder vessels. They arced and split, which meant that they would both be temporarily on their own for the time being. Something that they should have avoided. Already the Mandalorian was seizing the moment, calibrating his ship's momentum to maneuver around and intercept one of the pirates as it was turning. Like a T-bone, but with lasers. There was little the pirate could do other than watch his shields go offline from an EMP shot and rail guns tear through his engine compartment like pieces of paper. Fire erupted from the back of the ship's hull, engulfing its mass until it reached the fuel reservoir and became the catalyst to a large explosion. Two down, one to go. Reckless abandon caught up with Demagol quickly unfortunately as the final stray pirate caught one of his rear thrusters with a lucky shot. The entire mass heaved forward, slamming Demagol's face up against the dash and spreading a laceration along his brow, the Mandalorian's helmet ricocheting off the inner walls of the ship. He was surprised it hadn't cracked him in the skull yet at this point. Blood trickled down his face, welling at the bottom of his respective eye. Again his voice roared forth, "I'm not fuckin' dying yet!" came in cadence with the ship performing a hard pivot with only one thruster active. It was now or never.
"Starfire! Boost shields! We're going in hot!" Punched forward, the ship lurched, inevitably tilted due to unequal engine thrust. That was all he needed though, rushing against death's blade as he fired off another volley of rail cannons and laser blasts. It was a scatter shot, but it found its home along the center-front of the oncoming ship. This time the explosion was immediate, but due to that Demagol was unable to see the debris and shrapnel that came straight for him like the detonation of a massive grenade. A last second yank of the directional stick stopped him from taking a full collision, but remedial shred was unavoidable as metal scraps hit his shields. More rocking ensued, the engagement thought to have been over until an entire loose door broke through his ship's shields and tore along the canopy. "FUCK!" A harsh yank in the opposing direction sent the ship spiraling out of control, motion sickness making Demagol feel nauseous. Suddenly there was more of a formal pull, the ship being dragged in a definite direction as the Mandalorian attempted to regain his space legs. He was being pulled into another planet's gravity well. It didn't look very urbanized- lots of forest on the surface. Would he survive the burn in? A bloodied face looked out the front. "..So this is it, 'eh?" This ship had always been his home. It would likely be his grave.
Forever?
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
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The Chronicles - by deific - 07-21-2016, 07:53 AM
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