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Post by Septimus on May 20, 2013 22:18:57 GMT
An onslaught of questions came over Septimus, but he ignored them for now. At this point in time, he was more considered about the heavily-armoured "Umojan Heavy-Infantryman" that had just appeared: he was a few heads taller than the inhabitant of Castra and could pose a serious threat to both the new arrivals and himself. However, he could prove to be a very valuable asset, being obviously more capable and advanced than the others.
"Lyla. I need to be able to jam that weapon if necessary. Can you do that for me, please?" Septimus asked in a low whisper, already knowing the answer. He allowed for some of his power reserves to be rerouted to a small program the AI would write - on her single word, a directed electro-magnetic pulse would be able to jam and possibly fry the internals of the Umojan's weapon.
"Of course. Hold for a few seconds, please."
"Thank you." he whispered, turning back to the small gathering of people. The ones with less armour seemed to be getting along better than before, as if they were friends or held a form of respect for one another. It was possible they were part of the same planet, nation or even military, yet in different universes, therefore explaining the trust that was forming.
"We're standing to the East of the Nefarius Plains on the continent of Sapientia, planet Sodalis, I am Septimus and you're here to help me with a little infestation. Anything else?"
Septimus was growing impatient and Lyla knew it. Quietly, she began calming him down, unheard by the others.
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Post by sbishop on May 22, 2013 5:23:36 GMT
With a near-utter shitstorm of questions and arguing going left and right and still with no idea where he was, Samuel finally had enough and rounded to face an unusual armoured figure.
"Sergeant Samuel Bishop," he gritted, tightening his grip on his PK470. "US Special Forces - Paranormal Unit "First Encounter Assault and Recon". And can someone mind telling me what the fuck is going on?"
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Post by Lars Ulman on May 22, 2013 15:21:44 GMT
He listened carefully to their replies, the units they'd said were none that he'd recognized. However, they all seemed to be from a United States. Whatever, or wherever, that was then they'd obviously had some commonality. Right now that meant he'd be against three, maybe four people from the same faction. What struck him as odd was the low level technology they wielded. None of their firearms would be able to pierce through he armor, or even damage it.
Whatever the case, they weren't an immediate threat.
Lars lowered his C-14 tentatively, agreeing with the logic of the Terran in primitive desert camouflage. He activated the radio within his helmet and said, "This is Sergeant Ulman broadcasting on all frequencies to any and all Umojan defense forces, please respond." He repeated the message three more times, before giving up. Only static replied in his radio.
He deactivated the shielding for his helmet then let the visor slid back into it's compartments. "I'm sure almost none of us know what's going on, but I have a feeling that we'd be better off if we weren't at each other's throats." He said, lowering his rifle to his side. He hoped that a more friendly approach would work, otherwise he had a feeling that the only thing walking out of a brawl between all of them would be what he thought was a Ghost.
However, what attracted his attention the most was a reference to an infestation. His first, most immediate, thought was the Zerg. If this rag tag group of combatants were the only ones who stood against the swarm on this planet, then they might as well have been dead. He gritted his teeth and asked, "What kind of infestation?" He hoped, he prayed, that the answer wasn't what he was thinking of.
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Post by Septimus on May 22, 2013 17:04:37 GMT
"What kind of infestation?"
Septimus turned to the large one, who had proceeded to remove his visor for the others to see his face. His hair was cropped short, his face hardened by combat. It was like he was as worried as he was at the mention of the occupied city of Castra. It was probably for a different reason, however.
"I'm not particularly sure. A mixture of races that trekked the desert seeking shelter. Not all too friendly."
Unfriendly was an understatement, and a massive one at that. These beasts were looking to eat something a little nutritious than twisting vines of ivy and damp moss. Flesh was more appetising than plants any day. Except if eating that flesh was cannibalism, though they didn't really care about that.
"Focus." he heard Lyla whisper. She was right. Again.
"So, if you'd rather not sit through a sandstorm with speeds up to---" Septimus double-checked his HUD for Lyla's conversion "Seven-thousand inches per second, you should follow me."
He turned and started walking, though probably striding from the smaller arrivals' perspectives, due to his larger physiology.
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Post by Lars Ulman on May 22, 2013 19:54:58 GMT
While the answer was not what Lars had expected, it still had an eerie similarity to the Zerg. To the Sergeant, the Zerg were simply a multitude of races which were all mutated to become the perfect killing machines. It would take considerable amounts of firepower and ingenuity to face such a ravenous horde. Normally, it took an entire army group or two to completely eradicate even a moderate infestation.
He had at least a near full magazine within his C-14 right now, and numerous other magazines in compartments. If they were indeed facing the Zerg, then he'd have to fire where it counted. Once he ran out of bullets for his C-14, then he'd be forced to switch to his P-220. He had never used the pistol against any Zerg carapace, he hoped it had enough of a punch to break through.
And right now the responsibility of wiping out whatever had taken forceful residence in the city of Castra fell onto this lot of terrans. And it was still all strange to him, Castra, Sodalis, the Nefarius Planes. None of these places were even remotely familiar to the Marine. He had never come across them in any travel log or military document.
To make things worse, they were about to face an extremely hostile environment. In his service to Umoja, he had been deployed to multiple colonies and installations. But none of which had weather such as this planet. It was a strange world indeed. He hoped that his armor would be able to do what it was designed to do and protect him, especially during a worst case scenario.
One thing mattered to Lars now, and it was returning home to his beloved wife and daughter. He wouldn't let anything get in his way of returning back home to his family in one piece. And right now, his survival meant that he had to follow this 'Septimus'. He didn't trust the only other armored being in the group, but right now it seemed necessary to follow.
He gritted his teeth and slipped back on his visor and it's shielding. He hefted his C-14 and began to follow. He turned to look at the others, saying, "I don't know about you. But getting blasted by a sandstorm of that magnitude isn't the best of ideas."
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Post by Specialist Jasper McBadass on May 22, 2013 21:36:50 GMT
"Specialist Jasper Owens, US Army, 75th Ranger Regiment-"
And then everybody started talking all at once, overshadowing the Specialist as he quietly took back his SCAR with a half-nod of thanks to the dude who'd punched him in the jaw four seconds ago. He might have been DoD and part of some organization that Owens had never heard of - but he was American. Or at least he said he was American. Duneboy turned out to be a guy from the 10th Mountain, which while not top tier SF by any means didn't mean he was totally worthless, and besides, he was American.
And then the Bishop dude said he was SF, but Paranormal. Which to Owens just meant the dude lived in looney land.
Meanwhile, gigantor and Robocop where babbling about infestations and sandstorms measured in square inches so the Ranger finished his introduction with a grunt, "-yeah, nice to meet you fuckin' guys, too."
Seven thousand inches per second? That was what? Seven thousand divided by twelve would put it into feet which his brain could then comprehend...
"Agh, fuck it," the Specialist snapped, clipping his rifle back onto his sling, "Okay, Robocop, real talk here - where the fuck are we going to evade this...this...twelve million mile per hour sandstorm?"
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Post by brianholcomb on May 22, 2013 22:47:11 GMT
Brian couldn't help but frown at the exchange of words. Infestations, storm speeds scaled down to inches per second, giant armored men; it was all a little much for a normal person. Brian's brain was still frantically trying to figure out what had happened, but for now it seemed that at least the hostilities were cooling down. At least three of the others were American, which provided a little bit of mental security for the Outcome operative. He still didn't trust any of them, but at least he knew who he needed to watch out for the most. And that would be the freaks in the armor. One seemed native to this... place. Sodalis.
But what he'd heard seemed impossible, that they weren't even on Earth any longer. His brain wanted to reject it as a hallucination or a dream, but he had to force that out. If he was actually in some sort of danger, he needed to adapt. He needed to figure out what the hell had happened. As the first armored figure started to move off towards the emerald city in the distance, Brian looked at the others.
"No use in just standing around. Let's just follow him and try to figure out what happened. You all seem just as confused as I am, so let's not tear each other to pieces," he said, primarily to the big armored freakazoid with the giant rifle. He didn't want to activate some sort of asshole-berserk thing on it and send it into a killing frenzy, at least not until he could find a weakness on its armor. That being said, he moved off behind the tall armored man.
"That's plenty of walking distance. I think you have plenty of time to explain exactly what brought us here and why." Brian was firm in his statement, hoping that the armored being wasn't some sort of retard who couldn't understand the logic behind what he'd just said. If he refused to tell them what was going on, then Brian knew that he must not want to tell them. And whatever reason he'd have for keeping it to himself should that be the case, Brian didn't trust that it was just the armored man's best intentions.
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Post by Septimus on May 25, 2013 20:31:39 GMT
"Okay. I can see the reason behind that."
Septimus took off walking, slower than usual, for the sake of the less well-equipped of the arrivals. His footprints in the sand shallow, despite the combined weight of the suit and himself.
"I woke in the city of Castra, not half a day ago. What I found when I ventured out of my chamber was not the beautiful residence I had grown up in, but an infested hole of beasts and overgrown plants. It was, all in all, a garden of horror." he lowered his head at the mistake he was about to outline. "And so I resorted to a dangerous, unstable piece of technology. It was supposed to summon help from my ancestors, those who began travelling through different universes, attempting to save lives with their knowledge and technology.
"Instead of those people, you all came through your respective matter-bridges, and though you are not the most effective soldiers, there is a chance we can save Castra, and in doing so, the rest of Sodalis."
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Post by Lars Ulman on May 28, 2013 15:07:16 GMT
Lars listened to what Septimus had to say. While he disregarded the physics surrounding him, he was stunned by how advanced a civilization he was dealing with. He simply stopped walking, "So what you are saying is that we've all been taken by this device of yours, from where we all came from, and dumped us here?" It was, more or less, a rhetorical question. For a moment, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. During the Great War, he had heard stories of the Protoss, an advanced civilization with far more advanced technology than anything the Terrans had ever witnessed.
At one point he had even seen them in action. Their warriors, Zealots as they were called, charged head first into battle without an ounce of fear. He'd seen how far ahead they were, compared to the Terrans, and to think that there might have been something out there that was even more advanced. It chilled him to think what kind of destruction they'd bring if any race were to get on their bad side.
He'd have to stay in this Septimus' good side, lest he incur whatever wrath awaits him. And if he had the power to bring them here, then he had the power to bring them back.
He continued walking, following the lone alien being. As they walked, he asked, "So... This... Portal-bridge thing... Can it return us from where you took us?"
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Post by Specialist Jasper McBadass on Jun 3, 2013 23:23:12 GMT
"Okay, so lemme get this straight," Jasper cut in, ignoring the bits about teleportation and land-space-bridges and whatnot1, his rifle slung across his chest as he made his way through the sand. In a way, it was a lot like the stereotypical middle east, just a ton of sand...and sand...and more fucking sand. And with the sun baking down on him in between bouts of gusts of sand peppering his exposed face, he was quickly coated in granules of sand that adhered to his damp ACUs, nevermind the status of his briefs. With sand cascading over his boots with each step, his formerly freezing toes were being quaintly warmed by the radiating heat, "You dun goof'd, and now you're pissed that we're not the guys you wanted for the job. If that's the case, why not just send us back and teleport in the guys you actually wanted for this detail?"
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Post by Septimus on Jun 16, 2013 0:35:03 GMT
Septimus was getting irritated that the arrivals didn't know what was going on. It wasn't there fault, of course, but he wasn't very good at explaining things. That's why he'd never married. Never wanted kids. The damn things would have been difficult. Besides, reproduction was a difficult thing for his race. That was why they had resorted to heavily synthetic reproduction.
"I can't return you to your worlds, you're stuck here, I need your help, my city and planet is dying." Septimus flipped, somewhat. He felt like he'd cracked, but tried to keep calm. "Blunt enough for you?"
He sighed quietly to himself, carrying on with his walk.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine, Lyla." he replied, annoyance and fatigue heavy in his voice. The AI was not even slightly convinced.
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Post by First Lieutenant "Talon" on Jun 16, 2013 3:32:06 GMT
Larous Cluster Space
"Talon, that Bosh'tet is still behind us and it looks like they are getting ready to launch fighters" Jessie said from the co-pilot's seat of the rebel fighter now screaming through space in a desperate plight to get away from the approaching enemy carrier. "I know Jessie, I am trying here" Talon said from the pilots seat, he had tried everything to lose the carrier when it appeared but nothing worked. Once again Talon had walked straight into the enemies trap, but luckily this time he had managed to get his friends away but now he was in the frying pan and as things were getting worse by the minute he would be leaping into the fire. "Fuel Reserves at half, Ammunition at Quarter capacity" the computer blurted out as if on cue to bring things down further. Talon had to think, he had to think of a way out of here. Talon closed his eyes for a moment as his mind began to ignore the outside world. What was seconds out there Talon felt like hours going through the scenarios in his head, then another alarm in his fighter went off to pull him out of his trance. "Crap! Another carrier just pulled out in front of us" this new update pulled at the corners of Talon's young mouth, it wasn't a down ward pull either. "That's the best news all day. Hold on Jessie" Talon said to the curses from behind. Talon shook his head, the well endowed Jessie may have been a stunning beauty but her vocabulary was full of every kind of cussing under the Tyr sun. Talon then pointed the small craft straight at the incoming star ship, with what looked like the intention of ramming it. As he blocked out Jessie's curses he hit the afterburners increasing his speed rapidly and giving the gunners of both carriers a very hard target to fire at.
As Talon decreased his distance towards the incoming carrier's bridge the laser fire became frantic to keep him away. Jessie let out a burst of laughter as the carrier they were heading towards was missing them but hitting their own fighters and the pursuing carrier too. Then Talon pulled slightly to the side as he skimmed the surface of the Carrier's bridge. After a few minutes Talon looked at his sensors and smiled at Jessie's Yahoos. He watched as the pursuing carrier was now a flaming wreck that had now plunged into the second carrier. Then the unthinkable happened as Talon prepared for the jump home he was hit by a long range seeker missile. The missile had only hit the tail stabilizers but that had still knocked out a few systems and sent them into a spin. Jessie began to curse again as both pilots tried to fix it, ripping the panels off and reconnecting fuses and wires. That's when it appeared a swirling vortex. At first Talon thought it may have been a new weapon or a newly formed black hole, but then he saw the light around it and within seconds the fighter disappeared into it.
Sodalis Desert Wasteland
As the fighter reappeared Talon looked in wonder at the wasteland of a planet he had never seen before, the vast desert looked endless. After a moment of wonder an alarm brought the pilot back to the main problem. They were crashing at a high speed that had already created a sonic boom when they entered. "Jessie, we are going into Guardian mode if we can. It will slow us down and help us land safely. What's the damage like?" he asked his co pilot. Not waiting for her reply he crossed his fingers and hoped that the system hadn't been damaged. With a sigh of relief the fighter began to change into a sort of half fighter, half mech. This then kicked in the re entry boosters which fired off to slow their decent. Talon was grateful for them as their main engines were still off line. "That Bosh'Tet knocked out most of the major systems Talon. It would take a few days to repair but .... " she said looking out side the cockpit " .... I don't think there are any parts around here. Where ever here is?" she asked bringing up a star map as Talon put the fighter down with a clunk as the fuel reserves ran out. Talon sighed as he looked around he saw some others on the horizon not to far away "Well maybe they can help or show us someplace to find help. Ok lets cover her up and get out. Deploying Mech Tent" he said as he hit a button. A small compartment on the top of the fighter popped open and inside popped out a small container. With in minutes the fighter was covered in a netting that mirrored the texture and color of the sands blowing around them. Then the cockpit opened and the two pilots jumped out. Their skin tight pilots suits adapting to the temperature immediately cooling them down. as Talon looked at the group of people walking towards them, while Jessie walked to the storage department in the back of the fighter. She was glad to see it intact and was even more satisfied to see all the gear, but the two emergency cycles, were still good. She grabbed the two back packs and two assault rifles and headed back to Talon who was awaiting the arrival of the group of people.
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Post by Alan Mathis on Jul 18, 2013 19:54:53 GMT
"Well... Fuck." Was all Alan could manage at the moment. Matter-bridges? Different universes, Castra? It was all a bit over his head, and the soldier really didn't want to follow thee cyborg man out into the desert. But there was the looming threat of that sandstorm, and everyone else was following the thing. He was even less keen on being abandoned out in the middle of nowhere, however, so Mathis sighed to himself and began to trudge after the group. He caught the tail end of the cyborg man telling them that they weren't the most effective soldiers. At first, the man was insulted, but a quick glance at the Ouija infantryman and cyborg boy quelled any protest arising from Alan. He certainly didn't feel like the top scorpion in the desert at the moment.
Suddenly, the cyborg snapped at the Ranger, saying that all of them were stuck on the planet, that there was no way home, and that the planet was dying. Which wasn't exactly motivational for the 10th Mountain soldier. He couldn't get home? So he wouldn't see his family, his fiancee, ever again? And he was stuck fighting some other man's - no, check that, some other species' war? Alan didn't like the sound of that at all, and he couldn't help but to tap his finger against the side of his M16A2 repeatedly, head still spinning as he was trying to make sense of it all.
"Okay, so we're not what you want, but you have to make do. Give us some details about this 'infestation'. We're not all just gonna be cannon fodder, are we? If we're gonna be fighting some extraterrestrial dragon, I'd rather take my chances with the sandstorm, thank you very much."
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Post by Septimus on Jul 19, 2013 17:44:44 GMT
Castra became much clearer now, taking up almost all of the horizon. They were not one of their "miles" from the emerald city of shimmering towers and perfect architecture. Or at least, that is what it had been before he had entered his slumber - now, the exterior was riddled with twisted vines and jagged thorns. In some places, there were empty spaces lines with jagged pieces of glass. Septimus used his helmet's optics to zoom up close - the edges of some of the shards were bloodstained a sickly crimson, others dripped the stuff.
He heard a tapping from behind him, his HUD turning a deep red as he span around to the source of the sound. The one who had spoken the words "Oh fuck.", what Lyla translated to be a sort of curse, was tapping his finger against his gas-operated rifle. Lyla sighed sadly to herself - he was a wreck. The slumber had not helped.
"Don't say it."
"Say what?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Septimus said, lowering his head and turning back around to walk.
Then, the one tapping began to speak again. He spoke of not wanting to be mere cannon fodder, and that he was considering braving the sandstorm. Lyla made sure to highlight that it would be hitting in full force in ten minutes or so. He made a mental note of the time and spoke over his shoulder.
"You won't throw yourself in front of me to save my life?" he said blankly and somewhat wearily. When he got no response, he turned, walking backwards. "That was a joke."
"That was a terrible joke." Lyla whispered.
"It was a wonderful joke." he turned back around and addressed the group behind him. "We shall be fighting horrifically mutated species that are so deformed, we cannot identify them even on a genetic level. Inbred wolves; cross-bred, giant killer insects; deformed primates, much like your anatomies."
Blank faces.
"Do they have humour in your universes?" he muttered to himself, perhaps a little too loudly.
Inside the tallest tower of the once-great city, a fourteen-foot disgrace stood from its place on the steps leading up to the main control room. It resembled a large deformed ape, though less stocky and hairless. Its skin was a weave of bloodstained flesh and wounds in the form of small scratches and gashes gaping wide. Some bled fresh, whilst others were encrusted with dark, dried blood. What was more disturbing than the many injuries, however, was the freakish skeletal sytem that looked as if it grew to large for the animal's skin.
Yellowing bone poked through the flesh in large patches, particularly on its limbs. Muscles still rippled along with the bones, putting the thing in immense pain whenever he moved. Some of its skull poked through too, a little bit of which retained a nasty crack, yet not enough to reveal the brain within. Its torso, a sickly sight, looked as if every rib was about to burst. Some of the skin had already started to rip around its collarbones and sternum. It was a similar story with the thing's spine.
A creature climbed up the outer wall and into the beast's lair through the window Septimus had viewed earlier. It had three sickly off-white tentacles where one arm would have been, matching the colour of its flesh. The other upper limb was a strange thing, looking like a human hand, yet with long talons protruding from the wrist and palm. Three more similar looking things entered through the window. They weren't identical to the first "claw-hand", as they had talons and tentacles in other miscellaneous places, some resembling hair and teeth, others resembling genitalia.
The tentacled creatures began screeching at the huge deformed primate, waving in the direction of the entrance. They seemed scared, vicious, angry. The massive exoskeleton-ape reached for the lead newcomer and squished it in his grip. He took a bite out of the mush, whilst smashing another into the wall beside the window. Much to his dismay, the last two jumped out of the window, one falling to its death, the other slithering down the side of the tower.
However, he seemed to have received the message as he dropped the mush and climbed through the large window, that was more of a huge viewing screen. It was similar to a flight control tower, but much larger and circular instead of square. The beast climbed to the top of his tower, clutching the spire. In the distance, he could see a group of tiny foreigners. They were not going to take his territory. He let out a monstrous roar that rolled over the flat deserts for miles. Everything in the city of Castra seemed to stir, flaring mandibles, baring teeth and joining their leader with roars, hisses and screeches. It was truly terrifying.
It was certainly not the welcoming Septimus was hoping for.
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Post by Talyc Drexl on Jul 20, 2013 19:47:59 GMT
"Agh..." Talyc opened his eyes to a bright light filtering in through his helmet, the burning heat of Tatooine's dual suns. The man squinted his eyes shut for a moment, listening to the loud whine of the alarm in his ears, signifying his shields were down. Suddenly, it all rushed back to the Clone, the explosion, the fact he was in combat. Talyc felt the grip of his DC-17m, and immediately grasped the weapon. In one motion, the man sat up, eyes wide open, shouldering the blaster. As he swiftly scanned back and forth for contacts, '27 lowered the Deecee, confused as to why there wasn't any smugglers around him, baying for his blood.
Or as to why he was surrounded by dunes, rather than the streets of Mos Espa. With a pained groan, Talyc pushed himself to his feet, his armored boots shifting uncomfortably in the sand. Standing on the side of a dune was never easy, and the man felt his knees wobble before he finally found footing. It was just then that the soldier's armor stopped it's warble, and his shield meter began to rapidly recharge. The Clone checked his motion tracker, and was surprised when he didn't see a single thing moving within it's wide scanning range.
Where the hell had they gone? Where had he gone? There was no way that he'd been knocked that far by a thermal detonator - a shockwave that size would've turned him into itty bitty chunks. So what was he doing out in the Dune Sea? Shifting into a slight crouch to better support himself on the incline, the Commando quickly pondered his rather strange predicament. Maybe he'd been knocked unconscious by the blast, dragged out here, and left to die of dehydration by the smugglers? Why was his shields still down, then? He was going have to check over his power cell, it had been a while since he'd conducted maintenance on his armor.
"TAC, identify the nearest settlement." The Clone spoke to the tactical computer in his helmet, designed and issued by the Galactic Empire to fully assist Commando's with their operations. Milliseconds after he spoke, a small window appeared on his HUD, text scrolling across.
>>>://IDENTIFYING NEAREST SETTLEMENT// >>>://...// >>>://...// >>>://UNABLE TO IDENTIFY SETTLEMENTS//
"What? Then find us on the map, I'll do it by hand."
>>>://REFERENCING TACTICAL MAP// >>>://UNABLE TO TRIANGULATE POSITION//
"What's wrong with you, TAC? I'm gonna have to check you out too. Establish uplink with nearest orbital satellite, override code: Imperial Authorization India-Charlie-Zero-One-Slash-Zero-Two-Seven, focus satellite optics on my position, and give me a direct feed."
>>>://SEARCHING FOR ORBITAL SATELLITE// >>>://...// >>>://...// >>>://ORBITAL SATELLITE DETECTED// >>>://ESTABLISHING CONNECTION// >>>://UNABLE TO ESTABLISH CONNECTION// >>>://RESTARTING UPLINK// >>>://UPLINK FAILED// >>>://RESTARTING UPLINK// >>>://UPLINK FAILED//
"Belay that order, TAC. Lets see if I can get eyes on anything." Talyc said dryly, turning and slowly ascending the dune, which was so steep he was practically crawling. A few moments before the Clone finally reached the top, and he finally stood up straight since he'd been thrown into this situation. Why was all of his gear going haywire? TAC should've been able to interface with that satellite, no problem. What had the smugglers done to his armor? He hoped they hadn't stripped him of any sensitive gear.
The Commando began to scan the sunny horizon, which had about what he expected, absolutely nothing but sand. That was until he turned around, it wasn't hard to miss, only a few miles off. He was practically on the outskirts, after all.
It was an entire city! Except it wasn't the adobe and mud huts you'd expect from a Tatooine city. No, it was massive, towering over the dunes, it was almost as if... they were made of crystal. He couldn't help but be reminded of Chaleydonia, with it's towering crystal... towers. But that was impossible, there wasn't anyone rich enough to build a city of that size on Tatooine, not out of that material. But what if...
Talyc squinted at the city, his visor automatically zooming in by 10x, giving him a much clearer view. It was then he could see individual buildings, and was a little caught off guard by what he saw. Most were ruined, shattered at best. He could see the skeleton of quite a few of them, though it certainly didn't look like battle damage. More like it'd fallen apart from lack of repair, as if the entire city had been abandoned. But who would abandon such a crown jewel?
It was then his keen eyes spotted movement, creatures moving across the surface of the buildings, like insects... Or primates swinging from a tree. He couldn't make out the creatures from this distance, but they certainly didn't look like any of Tatooine's dangerous, four legged creatures. Talyc wasn't too keen on identifying a new species any time soon, however. But at this point, he really didn't have another option. Maybe TAC was malfunctioning from a jammer in the city. Hopefully that was the case, because otherwise the Commando was stuck here.
"TAC, scan for..."
Talyc drifted off with his order, noticing something out of the corner of his eye. At first, it took him a moment to understand what he was looking at, it was such a small detail, it hardly even registered to him at first. The Clone squinted his eyes to block out the rays of the sun.
The sun.
There was only one of them.
He wasn't on Tatooine.
"TAC, check galactic grid coordinates."
>>>://UNCHARTED//
"Identify the Galactic Region."
>>>://UNABLE//
"Identify the Galactic Sector!"
>>>://UNABLE//
"Identify anything!"
>>>://!!WARNING!! !!SEVERE ENVIRONMENTAL THREAT DETECTED!! SAND STORM APPROACHING FROM WEST AT 639.7 KILOMETERS PER HOUR, ETA: SEVEN MINUTES//
"Whoa whoa wait, what? Estimate survivability in that storm."
>>>://ORGANIC SURVIVABILITY INSIDE THREAT AT 4.916%://
"Well, crap."
It was then that Talyc glanced at the city, which couldn't have been too far off. Even with his armor, he wasn't very keen on being in a storm of that speed. It'd be like getting hit with a speeder. He really didn't want to meet whatever was living in that city, either. But it was a choice between certain death, and almost certain death. The choice was easy.
"TAC, what's the distance to that city?"
>>>://DISTANCE TO CITY IS 2.57 KILOMETERS//
Two and a half kilometers in seven minutes? Maybe, the Commando may be old, but he should still be able to manage that measly distance in seven minutes. The only tough part would be what he'd find when he got there. Somehow, Talyc doubted that those creatures would welcome him to their lair.
Just as the Clone began to set off for the city, he stopped, as a loud roar echoed across the plains - straight from his destination. The howl was long, and followed by several more... As if an entire pack had just been alerted to his presence. Now that wasn't something that was promising. But before Talyc could step off again, the ground began to shake.
The sand beneath his very boots shifted, moving with surprising speed to his left. The sudden movement was enough to throw the man off his feet, and he rolled down the side of the steep dune - a dune that was now alive. The armored Clone grunted as he finally rolled to the bottom, swiftly finding his footing and standing up, DC-17m focused on the dune.
Whatever it was, it was huge. Easily two hundred meters long, shifting the entire dune. It was still hidden by the sand, so the Commando couldn't make anything out, but it let out an ear-splitting screech. And then it started to... burrow? The ground continue to shake as slowly the dune began to collapse in on itself, until finally something appeared from the dune in the shower of a dust - it was like a tail, maybe. Scaly and round, it was almost like the back end of a worm. After that, the thing disappeared, no doubt deep underground.
As worrying as that was, Talyc had no time to worry about that. He could see the sandstorm in the distance, and immediately turned on his foot, breaking into a fast jog towards the clearly hostile city.
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