It didn't take long for terminal velocity to be reached upon burning into the planet's atmosphere. Drop by drop blood fell, spattering onto the glass of the cockpit. The wound was deep even if it was just a laceration, Demagol's left eye closed up a bit so that blood wouldn't get into the socket. Sensors were going erratic, multiple lights flashing inside of the hull like a series of emergency triggers. His body felt heavy. Just the task of getting himself secured into his pilot's seat was a chore, nausea and lightheadedness fogging over his head slowly but surely. "Fuck.. this can't be it. Not yet.. not now.." Stubborn as ever, the Mandalorian refused to accept the possibility of death. Even when fire pushed along the nose of the vessel from burning into the atmosphere there was no way he could just give up. Ship tilted, Demagol's helmet came flying by his head, perhaps the only stroke of luck he experienced in the wake of recent events. A small omen, maybe? It didn't even smash against the glass and cause premature damage. With all the strength he could muster the helmet was taken into his grasp, secured onto his head and reattached to the suit. The ground was approaching quickly. Through the trees he cut through, colliding with the ground, bouncing and skidding along mossy soil. What was left of Starfire's shields dissipated upon impact, power within the ship rapidly beginning to wane as it came to a grinding stop.
A cough. He was shell-shocked, but alive.
As soon as he undid the bindings to the chair he immediately collapsed onto the floor of the ship. His visor was cracked, split and spiderwebbed vertically. Why did he feel so weak right now? Fatigued muscles dragged him across to where his miniature armory was in the ship. The door to his personal cabin was open, ajar. A series of memories flooded over him, renewing his heartbreak as soon as he lifted his chin up from the floor to look at his room. Some of Rhailo's things were still in there. The clothing that he had bought her upon landing on Grezik. There were small touches to the design, womanly ones. This was their home at one point. No longer. She was gone. It was hard to accept. When they split up they weren't face to face. Rhailo's brother spoke with him one on one. Could it be that some sort of mind trick was used on him? Would Brax go to such lengths to separate the two of them? Imaginations surely went wild when stress was at an all-time high. "It's too fuckin' late now.." The words were muddled, blood trickled down enough to be running over the Mandalorian's lips. "Even if this all was just a ruse by her brother.. it worked." Triceps flexed, Demagol pushing himself up to a wobbly standing position. Electrical functions of the inner ship were beginning to power off one by one. Soon enough Starfire would be a dead ship.
"It's not fucking fair." An armored gauntlet shattered through the glass of Demagol's armory, shards scattered all over the floor around him. Thereafter he broke the fragments that clung to the edges of the frame. His assault rifle was retrieved, along with his blaster pistol and beskad. They seemed heavier than before. Had he exhausted himself with all that rage pumping through his veins beforehand? The inside of the ship began to darken, emergency lights slowly dimming. What was left of his survival rations were stored in the arm slots of his suit, liquid nutrients. It'd keep him going for about a week, at least. A shuffling motion, how the Mandalorian practically struggled to put one foot in front of the other at this point. Fingers grasped at nearby objects and walls as means of temporary support. It was depressing how his world was dissolving around him. The ship he put so much money into was totaled, one of the engines completely inoperable while an entire wing barely held on due to shrapnel and impact damage. It was extensive. There was no way he was getting off this planet by himself. After what seemed like an eternity the rear blast door was reached, the last bit of Starfire's power core being put into making it be able to open up and crash onto the soil outside of the ship. Light flooded into the ship as Demagol tiredly stepped out and into the foreign landscape. Morning, maybe?
The planet didn't seem outright hostile, almost like Alderaan in immediate appearance. Still, Demagol knew he was hopelessly lost. The air felt heavy, but that was likely due to how worn down the Mandalorian was. Passion was how he survived up until now. There just wasn't much left anymore. Everything in his life had been taken so quickly. To endure the oncoming shock would prove to be a harder task than previously anticipated. Even his ship, his beloved Starfire, his only home- was rendered useless. Again Demagol felt alone, now more than ever. He had never trembled like this before, how his body shook uncontrollably. A breakdown of sorts.
Where was she?
"I don't know where you are right now, Rhailo. Probably home with your people. I'm not sure if you actually even care.- Hah." Demagol felt like he was offering up some sort of prayer to the gods, talking to an imaginary friend that wasn't actually there. Was this different? Was he just going insane already? "But I'm not dead. Not yet." His eyes were looking at the sky, the landscape around him as if she was going to pop out from behind a tree and suddenly be there. Demagol felt sick to his stomach again. "If you're out there, listening somehow- just know this wasn't my choice." Depravity was a shattering thing to deal with. With himself, and only himself, the Mandalorian felt very small in a very big universe. He didn't like what he felt. 'A man can have anything if he is willing to sacrifice.' Was it true? What had he gained from all the sacrifice he made? He was left with nothing. A certain feeling was impending as Demagol spoke out once again, so very softly this time.
"Rhailo.. I'm afraid.."
A cough. He was shell-shocked, but alive.
As soon as he undid the bindings to the chair he immediately collapsed onto the floor of the ship. His visor was cracked, split and spiderwebbed vertically. Why did he feel so weak right now? Fatigued muscles dragged him across to where his miniature armory was in the ship. The door to his personal cabin was open, ajar. A series of memories flooded over him, renewing his heartbreak as soon as he lifted his chin up from the floor to look at his room. Some of Rhailo's things were still in there. The clothing that he had bought her upon landing on Grezik. There were small touches to the design, womanly ones. This was their home at one point. No longer. She was gone. It was hard to accept. When they split up they weren't face to face. Rhailo's brother spoke with him one on one. Could it be that some sort of mind trick was used on him? Would Brax go to such lengths to separate the two of them? Imaginations surely went wild when stress was at an all-time high. "It's too fuckin' late now.." The words were muddled, blood trickled down enough to be running over the Mandalorian's lips. "Even if this all was just a ruse by her brother.. it worked." Triceps flexed, Demagol pushing himself up to a wobbly standing position. Electrical functions of the inner ship were beginning to power off one by one. Soon enough Starfire would be a dead ship.
"It's not fucking fair." An armored gauntlet shattered through the glass of Demagol's armory, shards scattered all over the floor around him. Thereafter he broke the fragments that clung to the edges of the frame. His assault rifle was retrieved, along with his blaster pistol and beskad. They seemed heavier than before. Had he exhausted himself with all that rage pumping through his veins beforehand? The inside of the ship began to darken, emergency lights slowly dimming. What was left of his survival rations were stored in the arm slots of his suit, liquid nutrients. It'd keep him going for about a week, at least. A shuffling motion, how the Mandalorian practically struggled to put one foot in front of the other at this point. Fingers grasped at nearby objects and walls as means of temporary support. It was depressing how his world was dissolving around him. The ship he put so much money into was totaled, one of the engines completely inoperable while an entire wing barely held on due to shrapnel and impact damage. It was extensive. There was no way he was getting off this planet by himself. After what seemed like an eternity the rear blast door was reached, the last bit of Starfire's power core being put into making it be able to open up and crash onto the soil outside of the ship. Light flooded into the ship as Demagol tiredly stepped out and into the foreign landscape. Morning, maybe?
The planet didn't seem outright hostile, almost like Alderaan in immediate appearance. Still, Demagol knew he was hopelessly lost. The air felt heavy, but that was likely due to how worn down the Mandalorian was. Passion was how he survived up until now. There just wasn't much left anymore. Everything in his life had been taken so quickly. To endure the oncoming shock would prove to be a harder task than previously anticipated. Even his ship, his beloved Starfire, his only home- was rendered useless. Again Demagol felt alone, now more than ever. He had never trembled like this before, how his body shook uncontrollably. A breakdown of sorts.
Where was she?
"I don't know where you are right now, Rhailo. Probably home with your people. I'm not sure if you actually even care.- Hah." Demagol felt like he was offering up some sort of prayer to the gods, talking to an imaginary friend that wasn't actually there. Was this different? Was he just going insane already? "But I'm not dead. Not yet." His eyes were looking at the sky, the landscape around him as if she was going to pop out from behind a tree and suddenly be there. Demagol felt sick to his stomach again. "If you're out there, listening somehow- just know this wasn't my choice." Depravity was a shattering thing to deal with. With himself, and only himself, the Mandalorian felt very small in a very big universe. He didn't like what he felt. 'A man can have anything if he is willing to sacrifice.' Was it true? What had he gained from all the sacrifice he made? He was left with nothing. A certain feeling was impending as Demagol spoke out once again, so very softly this time.
"Rhailo.. I'm afraid.."
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
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-23-2016, 12:47 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-23-2016, 04:00 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-24-2016, 06:45 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-25-2016, 12:48 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-25-2016, 12:58 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-26-2016, 01:09 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-30-2016, 04:08 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-06-2016, 12:41 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-09-2016, 08:56 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-10-2016, 08:44 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-11-2016, 01:02 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 09-01-2016, 05:43 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-03-2016, 11:11 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-03-2016, 01:47 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-08-2016, 03:03 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-08-2016, 09:23 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-11-2016, 01:21 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-17-2016, 04:15 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-31-2016, 05:27 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 02-15-2017, 08:33 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 05-13-2017, 03:35 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 05-26-2017, 05:55 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 05-26-2017, 07:01 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 06-10-2017, 12:37 PM