[font=Georgia][OOC: Being nice to everyone's eyes for just this once... The IC content of this post will be in the default font-size (2) for the WYSIWYG editor.]

[font=Verdana][font=Trebuchet MS]Lance sighed, no longer willing to deal with anyone over the situation that was brewing around him. If the Jedi wasn't willing to deal with explaining the situation, then hopefully he wouldn't take being followed the wrong way. It was at least a great way to get exercise and stay in shape, following this damn Jedi around, but there was still the dark desire in the soldier's mind to take out the other man's ability to get that far ahead in one go, if only out of how frustrating it was.

And frustrating was a polite understatement; this man was enough to drive someone crazy. It took quite some time to catach up with him, enough that even when running at his fastest, Lance just barely caught what Irtar was apparently shouting out into the open space near him. Why is he shouting? And who to, considering what he's saying? The thoughts remained unanswered as the commando continued to run, trying his hardest to find either the Jedi or whoever had possibly caught his attention, barely even registering that it was suddenly darker now along the roads than it had been before, even under the cover of night.

What gives here? he asked inside himself, still not slowing down...until he heard the roar. Whether he should have reacted otherwise or not didn't concern him; he was hearing something, and something unnatural. That was grounds for an immediate stop, no matter which dimension one hailed from. Now, really, what the Hell gives here?

"Hell itself," came the voice in his mind, soft and cold, rasping like the wind in a shadowy graveyard. "Now run along... Leave us alone." Standing just a few meters ahead, well within arm's reach, was a specter that clearly couldn't have been real, and shouldn't have been out there in plain sight. Shadowy robes shielded a creature with what appeared to be a small frame, a strange protrusion jutting upwards from the top of his back. There was a sickening screech of metal against metal, and the protrusion turned into a sword of considerable heft, more than long enough to reach him; at the same time, the cloak dropped, dissipating into dust and revealing a skeletal warrior several times larger than the shadowy image had alluded to. "Leave us...or die."

With that, the blade flew through the air, and Lance did what came by instinct and the loud scream in his mind: he rolled quickly to his right, the sword's edge barely passing above him as it cleaved through the space he had once occupied. Remember rule number 3, he thought to himself. He who said that swords don't work at a gunfight promptly lost his weapon arm to a zweihander. Keeping that in mind, Lance reached for the only thing he had on hand that he knew could stand against a sword...

...and perhaps the one thing he had on hand that he knew almost nothing about. I think I can turn it on, at least... I think. It was, unfortunately, not the greatest of times to learn how to activate--let alone use--the damn heirloom, but it appeared to be now or never, in a quite literal fashion. Leaping out of the way of another close attack from whatever the Hell it was he was facing, Lance quickly rolled up his right sleeve and popped open the cargo door attached to his forearm's frame, revealing a small pair of items of significant personal importance: his wedding ring, and the lightsaber that had belonged to his paternal grandmother, so long ago that it was almost like a tangible history lesson.

The dark blue column of energy stretched forward with a noise that sounded half like the usual snap-hiss, and half like some sort of opera vocal. At least it didn't hit me, came the frustrated thought from the soldier, his hand holding the weapon firmly despite the fact that it was so strange to him that he felt extremely uncomfortable associating his combat skills to it. Training with even the lightest of metalswords for the random happenstance of meele combat had only gone so far, and this wasn't one of those extents.

And just as soon as he'd activated the weapon, he saw no need; the beast, whatever it was, had vanished without a trace. Not even a single mark from the thing's weapon remained in the ground to indicate that there had been a fight. Shaking his head, Lance turned the lightsaber off, grateful that he didn't have to use the damn thing at all, and put it in a small pocket on his jacket. If it were capable of vanishing like that on a whim, the lightsaber probably wouldn't have done anything, anyway. Perplexed quite a bit by what had happened just then, he returned to his run, drawing a blaster pistol just for the security and comfort it provided as he tried to tail the Jedi that he'd met only a few minutes ago, figuring that the Force-user would have some idea of what was going on in this strange, shadow-infested neighborhood.[/font]
[/font][/font]

The shadows lurked. Watching him as he ran headlong through their ranks. He ignored their numbers, the truth coming to him. The only way the shadows could hurt him were in his spirit and that was only if he let them. He weaved his way along the street, his mind just focusing on that central darkness.

This thing that had to be spawning these insane delusions that thought to tear at his mind.

He gave them no ground as he made his forward. Past people who couldn’t see these nightmares that bent reality like he could. Were these things nothing more than projections upon the Force? Irtar hadn’t the benefit of time to sit and try to sort things out. The harder he thought about the nature of the beast, the more he lost focus of it.

Streets changed to avenues, avenues to highways, and finally it all gave way to the large spaceport before him. A large crystal design by the Vors, meant to be the first sign of beauty to arrivals and a haunting reminder to those departing their world. And on this night of blood and tainted music, it took on such a more sinister sight. To his mind’s eye, he saw the demons of whatever tortured mind created them crawling. The crystals seemed dim and lifeless.

A corpse of the site he had seen in its pure beauty nothing more than a day ago.

He shuddered and pushed the thoughts to the side as he charged headlong. The more he focused on the source of this darkness, the more he could see the demons that lurked. And the more he tried to push the demons from his thoughts, the harder it was to see whatever it was that was the source of this madness.

So with a deep breath, Irtar charged forward into whatever Hell awaited him.

Through the passageways he went. Past the shadows calling for his blood. Past the deformed spiders that hung in his path, screeching about not toying with what he couldn’t understand. They were just illusions. This whole thing was just some damned illusion from a twisted mind that knew too much of the Force for their own good.

A deranged Sith? Perhaps a Jedi who had long since fallen into obscurity gripped by dementia? Whatever it was, it had just slaughtered two people in cold blood and he was dedicated to trying to face it down.

So through safety gates he charged much to the disgruntled security who soon were quickly behind him. Irtar was able to outpace the generally out of shape security guards. Vors were not known for their running to begin with, but this sealed his ability to outpace them.

After another couple of doors, Irtar stood in one of the hangars of the Vor’s capital. And there he saw a sight that made his teeth grit. A shuttle that bore the dark signature slowly lurking upward.

Instinct took over.

Irtar in a swift motion flashed his lightsaber to life and as he had seen before in his days, threw it towards the target. One of the engines of the vessel propelling it upward. The blade curved as it spun through the air as it made its way towards the target. And then, when moments away from tasting durasteel, the engines of the shuttle flared and it was heading upward and away.

The lightsaber clanged loudly as it hit the way and it fell unceremoniously towards the floor as Irtar just fell to a knee. The dark voices cackling at his failure to obtain their master as they slowly faded off into the darkness from whence they came and the building returned to his eye as the place it was. Though it seemed to bear this bitter aftertaste after his encounter.

Irtar merely thought on the encounter as all of a sudden he felt a heavy weight hit him from behind and he was knocked steadily from the ground.

The security guards had caught up.

A couple of Vor used their flying might to just simply lay into him, and he was prostate upon the floor as a pair of cuffs were put on him. Before long, he was being hauled off to a jail for breaching so many security protocols. Irtar was just silent as they took him quietly away to explain himself to the proper authorities.

-------------------------------

“And so you simply were trying to catch a murderer? Based on what proof?” Grumbled one of the Vor who were interrogating him after the incident. For the hundredth time. Irtar groaned as he was asked that question yet again.

“Okay, something slaughtered a couple. You’ve found them. I felt a shadow in the Force, that was where the woman said their assailant ran. So I followed. And I didn’t contact the authorities because I didn’t have any remote communicator on me and I didn’t want to loose the trail trying to find a damn payphone.” Irtar glowered as he looked at the Vor. “So I charged past the security gates. And even taking no time to delay, it STILL got away.”

“So what was the scene like-” the Vor was interrupted when another opened the door. Both Irtar and the Vor interrogator turned their gaze to the new arrival he had a file clutched in his hand.

“We just found the pilot of that shuttle. His corpse was found stowed away on another planet, though his ship was gone. His wounds were the same as the couple found near the Cathedral.” The Vor said casting a gaze to Irtar. The interrogator and the newcomer left the room.

After half-an-hour of boredom, the door opened as a higher ranked member of the Vor Secuirty entered. He was a human, probably left from the Imperial Occupation of the planet.

“Ah, Ambassador Mal’Gro. I was wondering when I’d here the trouble a Political Jedi would cause our planet.” The man said with a sly grin.

“Now can I go?” Irtar said, sitting up a bit. On edge at the very painfully Imperial man that now stared at him like a predator would look upon its prey.

“Well, I don’t have any evidence to hold you for any serious charges. And it seems you were doing so to try and apprehend some vicious beast that managed to get itself loose on our little planet.” The former Imperial said as he reviewed a file in his hand. “But more importantly, we’ve had a petition by the leader of Sinsang, this ‘Chao’, for your release.

It isn’t worth the pains to take you to trial over such trivial charges as this, especially since you’ll be dismissed by Vor law. Be thankful this planet no longer holds a place in the Empire, Mal’Gro, or I’d hold you for that charge on your mother.”

Irtar’s temper flared as his chair shot back as he stood to look at the former Imperial who didn’t even flinch. His better nature told him to slug this smug son-of-a-bitch in the face, but he knew that his pride would just get him in trouble here. He swallowed his pride and just stormed out of the room, charging and slamming the door behind him.

Now to get back to Chao and tell him what the frell just happened….

[font=Trebuchet MS]A strange wave of pain washed over the major as he watched the shuttle ascend into the sky and then leave the planet behind. It wasn't like any normal pain; no physical damage was associated with it. Instead, it was simply the sort of pain that resulted from failure and defeat on a deep, spiritual level. Following the shuttle with his eyes, he couldn't help but watch on with frustration, cursing in the depths of his thoughts as the sick bitch responsible for an evening of grisly horror got away. The terror probably wasn't over yet, either.[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]"Hey, mister, are you alright?"[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]How some little kid had managed to find him was of no concern to the commando. After all, the kid wasn't a threat as much as she was a nuisance...and with the murderous woman gone--a disappearance that he could feel as much as he had speculated--there wasn't any danger he was aware of that placed the young girl in any harm. Still, the question was as annoying as all Hell, and Lance wanted none of it. Angrily, he turned to face the kid, his eyes dark and menacing behind their narrow slits. "Shut up, kid," he began. "Just...just shut up." With that, he turned in the opposite direction and made to walk away, leaving the little girl to cry her eyes out.[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]What struck him as odd about the incident was that he didn't even care. He couldn't even form an apology in his mind for the incident, let alone turn around and speak one...he just genuinely didn't give a damn. On his trip, he intentionally avoided any streets for the better half of the trip, trying like mad to stay away from any contact with anyone in the area. When he finally happened upon a place that seemed to be distantly removed from the nearest city, he let out a roar so powerful that it drowned out every thought in his head...[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]...save for one. "I hear you..."[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]"Who the Hell are you?" he asked aloud, reaching for one of his weapons; he had just barely started drawing it before he realized that the voice was inside his mind. "What do you want with me?"[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]"You didn't think you could escape us, did you?"[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]"Answer me, dammit! Who are you?"[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]There was a short laugh. "That which destroys men and souls. Soon, you shall be mine." With that, the beast became visible in Lance's thoughts, and he realized all too late that he had made one horrible mistake in dealing with it: he'd left his mind open. Open to the monsters, and to their sinister ways...and now, as punishment, one of them was somehow trying to claim him.[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]The screams lasted for a good five minutes before the man and the monster were merged.[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]After a few long moments of walking through the town, he finally made his way back to the Cathedral, to find his squad waiting there for him, looking very upset. "Nothing," Dalston began, making the update short and to-the-point.[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]"Shut up and pack up," was all that the major said in response, and his tone was one that immediately caught several of the others off-guard. It was strange, in their opinion, for their CO to be this upset, and the deathly tone of voice he used was even more worrisome. Still, they loaded up their gear and got into the ship, nobody saying so much as a word as they prepared to leave. When it was all set and ready, the shuttle took off, acquiring the proper clearances from traffic control before heading into the stars.[/font]

[font=Trebuchet MS]An update on the news appeared about Glee Anselm, forcing them to divert their course before entering lightspeed. After a few seconds turning the ship around, it entered hyperspace towards a different entity of the Coalition: the Contegorian Confederation--specfically, the member planet Genon. Hopefully, some help could be found there...[/font]