Crayfishchris

Cratominique "M-my crew sails the stars... not the seas..." He pulls himself up against the wall, staring at everyone. His face is drenched with sweat and his eyes are brimming with tears. When Randall hits the ground, he shouts, his hand going to the blaster pistol still strapped to his hip. However, his priorities are quickly changed as he looks towards the approaching hunters. Odigu began its charge at Randall, shield arm swinging. With a sluggish movement, Cra raises the blaster pistol, takes aim... "Calm the... slep down." And fires.

Cratominique Images. Flashing back and forth, he could see very little and understand even less. Slowly, Cra becomes aware of his surroundings. He saw... people... several people... they were... were they... The obscured thoughts were quickly cleared as a pain in his leg sends him gasping. He looks at the others, and he begins to make words. "Where's... my crew...?" He is on the verge of tears, a combination of the pain, the environment, and his missing friends.

Cratominique Cra does no more than mumble as he is hugged to Reia and carried off. He'd never been shot before, at all. His life was never the most dangerous. So, he seems very out of it, his eyes flickering back and forth. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth in pain as they begin to move, the cold wind whipping at the open wound. His horns show through his hair as it is thrown backward by the wind. Other than the tan horns, he looks completely human. Holding on as tight as he can, he keeps his eyes closed and doesn't look up at his savior, only muttering to himself. "Sandrae..."

Cratominique "Arghhh!" Cra's shout could be heard to all near as he is shot, only one bullet hitting him in his leg. The ammunition was different from blasters. It didn't burn, it just tore through flesh and bone, destroying all in its path. He fell to the ground, only letting off one weak shot with his pistol. In his current situation, the chances that it would hit would be very low. Cra was then on the ground, reddish blood staining the landscape. He weakly called for help as the reaper flew away, looking around for someone... anyone! "Someone.... please...!" What a day this was. No... he had to find his crew... he had to... move... He began to crawl, towards the settlement, pain clearly evident on his face.

The March Of The Golden Owl They were a ragged group, most definitely. Two dozen elves, strung across the mountains of Malinor, their belongings strapped onto their backs. Their dirty faces and rough looks were at odds with the fine robes and jewelry that they wore. Many wore golden armor… strange, for their faces and hair denoted them as High Elves, and pure ones at that. The ones who did not wear armor were scrawny to the point of malnutrition. One, dressed in silver and green robes, led the group, seemingly unaffected by the climate and the wind. “Not far now,” the elf proclaimed, “We ssshould be there soon.” Another elf, this one in red robes, stepped up next to him. In complexion, he looked like a brother of sorts, though his hair was blonde and eyes blue, in stark contrast to his companions green eyes and silver hair. “We’ve trekked for days. The boat barely made it to the shore, Athri, and the mountains have been deadly. We are on the point of collapsing,” the newcomer said. “We will make it, brother,” Athri said, his voice cold and malicious, “We will finally reassssert ourselvess into our true home. Honessstly, Naeri, ssometimes you find cause to worry where there isss none.” “What of Iheiu’s child? She is the first child in nearly a century. If she dies up here, then-“ “She will not ‘die’ up here. Our guide has… what is the guide doing?” As one, the brothers turn, and look towards a stout Dwarf, leading the Elves onwards. Whilst the two brothers had taken a break to speak, he had passed them, leading the spread out and weary line forwards. At his side was a young girl, barely the age of four. She was listening intently to what he had to say. “…An’ there’s these thin’s, a’right? They be called ponies, an’ we ride ‘em all the time. Over bridges, at speeds that’d break ya neck!” The girl continued to listen, ensnared in his words. “An’ all ‘cross the land we ‘ave these big cities, they ‘ave all sorts of folks, an’ all sorts of fun thin’s!” “I wanna see a city!” the girl said, jumping up and down. She was elated, the dwarf and his funny way of speaking ha- “Bortu! Away from the mali’i!” Athri said, his voice cold and unforgiving. The dwarf gave the girl a comforting pat on the back, and she ran away into the line, jumping into the arms of a cousin. “Brother, surely you could-“ “Quiet! We do not want our children associating with the impure!” “Of course…” Naeri walked away, turning to another elven man. This one has darker robes and a similar complexion to Naeri. Yet another brother. “Iheiu, please control your child. At this rate she shall be mali’laurir. We do not want that. Not a single member of our family has ever been that.” “Not a problem, llir,” said Iheiu, his chiseled jawline and serious expression hardening even more, “I shall talk to her and her haelun later this day.” And so the line continued on after this brief rest, and the people in it became more spread out. The children and the eldest were at the back, supported by a rearguard of perhaps six soldiers. At the front stood the three brothers and their two cousins, Dias and Aios. The five led on the militia, keeping a steady march ahead of the young and the old behind them. Night was falling, and no sounds could be heard but the steady drumming of two dozen feet upon the compact earth. As soon as night fell, the dwarf stopped, holding up a hand to signal to the others. “We stop ‘ere,” he said, motioning to the caves of the mountain, nearly hidden underneath a thick underbrush, “Ol’ Trillyn knows a few secrets, aye? Perfec’ place to spen’ the night.” “Yesss,” said Athri, as he gazed upon the caves, “You shall be rewarded for your aid.” Athri froze, his whole body becoming like a block of ice. His elven ears perked up, twitching left and right. Snap. There it was, an unmistakable sound. Someone had been watching them, and for a good while too. And soon, without any prompting from Athri, that someone became many someones. Humans, their faces lit by the flickering light of their blazing hot torches, gazed ravenously at the lavish jewelry and garb that the High Elves wore. “A’right, then. Y’know the drill. Minas, jewelry an’ whatnot, pass it ‘ere,” said a particularly gruesome specimen, with more fingers than he had teeth. And he was missing quite a few fingers. His stubby and gnarled hands, which were imperfect and covered with scars, cried out to touch the riches that the elves bore on their bodies. “No.” With these simple words from an elderly High Elf man, the soldiers of the group spun into action, their spears twirling as they made short work of the first human, and the second, and the third… the bandit crew was large, and it wasn’t long before they began to take casualties. Scarlet blood spilled across the brown grass, staining the landscape a dirty and dark color. Soldier after soldier fell on both sides, and it seemed like the battle was going in favor of the Elves. A scarlet streak flew across the sky and hit Dios, his body erupting into a plume of smoke and fire. Within seconds, his body was melting, skin falling from body as the Void-Fire ate at his flesh and drained away his life. With a muttered curse in Elven, Athri and the elderly elf from before closed their eyes, focusing on the fire mage on the human’s side. Soon, two different towers of colored mist appeared on the ground in front of the mage. One was a dark gray, the other a sickly green. The two towers seemed to fight for a moment before enveloping each other and completely covering the mage in a deep, impenetrable mist. Had the victim screamed as the mist entered his system, blocking his connection to the Void? Had it been painful, or simply, releasing? The mage fell to the ground, his energy gone, his weakened form laying at the ground, looking up at the blanket of stars above. Torchlight faded away like the life of those who lay dead and dying, and the battle reached a deadly stalemate. Both sides looked at each other, panting and holding their breath. The little girl from before clung to her mother desperately, her eyes wide with fear. Casualties on both sides were terrible, with nine the militia from before lying dead, and the humans nearly all gone. Only three remained their simple robes and blunt weapons never meant for fighting. A harsh, guttural growl made heads from both sides turn. Yet another party had joined the fight. A zombie horde, the product of some rogue necromancer, had been roaming through the wilderness. Caught by the scent of the dead, they had made their way there, and were now hungry. They tore through the humans as if they were a mere morsel, and turned to the hapless elves. “Go!” Aios cried, readying his sword and gathering the remaining militia together. “We’ll hold them for now! Take the others and go!” Without a second thought, Athri turned and grabbed the arms of two of the nearest people, an elderly Elf named Valmuel and the elderly man from before. “Algaron, Valmuel, follow me,” he said, not looking back as he pulled them over the opposite ridge. “Screw you too, Athri,” said Naeri as soon as his brother was out of sight. “Bortu, we have no more need of your services. You may go.” “Nonsense! An Evermorth ne’er runs!” said the dwarf, pulling at his beard. Before taking out his axe, he pulled the fur cap off of his head, and delicately placed it on the little girl’s. “Take care of this for me, aye?” “Mhm!” “I’ll beh back fer it one day, mark mah words.” The girl was pulled away by her mother and father, and they headed left of where Athri had gone. Naeri and one final robed figure sprinted off into the caves, the group split up completely. As they crossed over the ridge, Aios and the soldiers began to fight, their golden armor glinting in the light of the fading torches. One by one, they fell. One by one, they all died, no one to record their last moments as the undead bit into their flesh and devoured them piece by piece. ~*~ “Simple. We essscaped,” said Athri, his tongue flicking out slightly as he brushed himself down. “I do hate perssspiring.” “Suck it up, then,” said Valmuel, picking a thorn out of her arm. “The Silver City awaits us. The weaker members of our family wouldn’t have made it, obviously. We must continue the line of purity. Of the Elibar’acal.” Algaron simply said nothing, staring forward into the night. He could just barely see the Silver City of Lin’everal’s lights on the horizon, and right now that was all he needed. ~*~ “Haelun, are you alright?” said Naeri, looking towards the woman who had followed him. “Quite alright, my son. Though… I… I do not want to venture further,” she responded, looking down at the ground. “What?! B-but, we have to get to the city! It is our goal… it is our dream!” “My son, it is your dream… you wished to bring our family to Anthos and rid them of their nomadic ways. You have done well so far… I am very proud. But I simply cannot move any farther. I am dying. I cannot walk much further.” “Then I shall carry you. You shall make it,” he said, his eyes brimming with tears. She put her hand in his, and Naeri could see her true age showing. She was nearly a millennia old now, nearing the end of her lifetime, and she truly looked old, with wrinkles and ragged breaths coming. “H-haelun… you… you can’t,” he sputtered. Nearly on the verge of crying herself, she smiled and said, “Just go… give an old woman some rest…” her breath was light, and her eyes were dimming. Her body was shutting itself down. She was dying, and she knew it. Laying down next to his mother, Naeri stayed with her until the next morning, when a small bit of sunlight ran into the caves and shook him awake. Next to him was the still and lifeless form of his mother. ~*~ “Alone at last…” said Iyathii, looking towards Iheiu with a longing. “Iyathii, please step away,” he said, a slight distaste evident. “I wish to be with our daughter.” The girl had long since fallen asleep, tired although she had done none of the running. They found refuge underneath a tree, with rain starting to pour down on them. “You can’t just ignore me… not after-“ “Hush. You’ll wake her.” Iheiu ran his fingers along his neck. Elibar’acal. That was their family’s name. It meant the Golden Owl, and that was indeed what he wore, a golden pendant in the shape of an owl in flight. His family all carried one except for his daughter, and with a single motion, he draped it around the girl’s neck. He did not make a move to remove the hat from her grasp. He would have to get rid of it later, to keep the girl from becoming attached. “Sleep, little Yulnii. All shall be safe soon. We shall have homes in the Silver City, and we shall be safe. We shall become powerful once more. We will be free.” (Anything I can improve upon! Please PM me or post a reply~)

Cratominique "What in the world is a Zerg?!" Cra said, his eyes widening as the gun is waved threateningly around. "You're spouting nonsense... we left Corellia a few hours ago, and were in the middle of space. Last thing I remember is being sucked out of my ship... and now I'm here! I don't know where we are... I just saw you... and thought you could help... something weird is going on..." Cra looked at Randall with an obvious fear, his hands shooting straight up in the air, eyes closed tight. "I know as much as you do, maybe less! Please, just help me find my people and if you have any, we can find yours... and we can get off this dump! I can pilot a starship... I can talk... I can fight... I know my way around... please... I can't die... not until I know they're alive..." His whole body was shaking now. "Something... is going on... we don't know anything about each other... at all... and... your... your armor... it isn't anything from known space... you... y-you're human... so... it doesn't add up... something... is wrong!" His articulate speech faded away the more scared he got, and he used reason and logic, however stuttered, to try and talk to Randall.

*browses forums, sees opportunity to play a child* *looks at number of characters* "Drat."

So Randal, Damon, and Cra are in the same area?

Craotor, I responded to your message, if that's alright. The main problem right now is that I'm unsure of who is where. Is there a map of sorts?

9/10

Cratominique "What the slep is the Dominion?" Cra's face contorts a little as he squints, viewing the human before him. He was in armor, a design that he had never seen before. And he had seen a lot, the traders coming to his home planet normally bringing a bodyguard or two with them. And the design of his pistols... they weren't standard issue either. Although, he could see that they were pointed at him. Stepping back slightly, he moved his hand from his own blaster pistol, slightly raised in the air as a symbol of peace. "Whatever your dominion is... it's far past Republic space. I'm Cratominique Davonte... but you can call me Cra. I'm from Corellia. My crew and I were on our way to Coruscant when we got attacked by these flying beasts. They tore the whole ship apart. I..." he pauses as his head throbs a little. A bit of blood was coming out from a scratch on his left ear, and a few horns could be seen poking out of his tan skin, "I'm a bit lost as of now. In... bad shape..." His eyes glance up once more to the barrel of the pistol, and he gives a small gulp. The terror is plain in his eyes. When he speaks, he speaks with a strange accent, that of which Randal had never heard before. Even his actions would be alien to him. The way he walked, moved, dressed. While there is something... human about Cra, he doesn't seem to be quite the same as the people from Randal's universe. "S-so... who're you? And... could you put the gun down, please?"

Cratominique Cra woke up, his eyes still adjusting to the completely white frozen landscape. Looking around him... Oh no... Lesti... Clyve... Sandrae... he hadn't seen Sandrae fall, but Clyve and Lesti... they were gone. They were gone. No. They were his crew. He couldn't give up on them. He had to go find help, find the others, find some way out of here. He felt at his back and hip, the blaster rifle and pistol still affixed, thankfully. Something was telling him that he wouldn't receive the kindest of welcomes. He pushed himself up, slowly, ever so slowly, every muscle in his body aching beyond anything he'd ever felt before. With a hobbling step, he moved towards the group of arguing people, a hand on his blaster pistol. "Hey! You over there! I need some help!" His hand went back and forth as he grew closer to the people. They were different from others he had seen before, although some looked human. Others... aliens, perhaps? Maybe from Wild Space...

Kristian frowns, his rage barely concealed. "Not good... not good at all... Kalameet! Elro! We got some news 'ere!"

"Er... of course. I'm Cedric, at least, that's what I've been called. I can fight. I can do stuff along those lines, don't worry!" He rubs the back of his neck, a bit of perspiration appearing on his forehead. "I just need a job... or something. I'm a bit down on my luck right now, and I'm easily capable." Play to their emotions... play to their emotions... Oh god, what am I doing?

"Seems it is the nature of the Elves to make arguments, aye? An' it's our darn job to clean it up..." Kristian mutters this idly to himself, musing over the letter. "They lost. We 'ave several workin' nations where there once was a broken one. I'd say this is a good time."

"Not a single darn letter to the Valiants? Well... grahhh!" Kristian's anguished cry reaches the heavens upon hearing of Alexander's departure.

Take a chill pill and just relax. Don't focus on the negative, but the positive.

"Don' forget... all us Valah 'ere in Conclave are workin' 'ard," he says, smiling as he hears this remark, "Don' forget that at all... actions speak louder than words, aye?"

Kristian chuckles. "I ain't leavin' innocents to get raided an' killed. Let the Elves debate... an' let the humans keep the peace. Honestly..." The Arbiter walks off, gathering his best soldiers for a patrol around Malinor. "It ain't 'bout what's 'legal' 'ere. It's 'bout what's right."

"A paintin'? Why... excellent! I'll pay six 'undred minas for one!" says Kristian von Craw.