If God Was In Hell We Would All Be Dead [OPEN | MINGLE]

[inconsequence]

Who: Who wants to kill some slavers? You do! Of course you do!
When: May 15th and onwards
Where: Slave trade outpost in the Runoff
What: The slavers that targeted the crew of the Moira in July are overdue for some justice. Chara breaks some regulations to make that happen. THIS IS A MINGLE LOG; anyone and everyone who wants to get in on this and kill some slavers is absolutely free to do so! Chara is relying on there being some chaos for this to work.
Warnings: PROBABLE DEATH. Probable references to slavery, trauma, and also death. Chara.


The Ingress opens to a spilling wash of gray and white, a monochrome cast of shadows and hard angles. The Runoff, it seems, is not a place of many colors; every inch of it is drab and washed out, cold and impersonal as the people who would employ such a place for their own twisted ends. A swirled nebula of stars glimmers overhead. It is night.

Knives are useful tools, but their reach is limited. A quiet transmission to the network, a select few messages delivered to a select few individuals, the hissing strike of a match igniting on the edge of a box. The place is angular and looks to be comprised of some sort of galactic equivalent of asphalt, likely inflammable. Still, it is entirely too dark. Too gray. Too poorly maintained. Tents and shabby establishments line the streets, places where, evidently, personal agency may be bought and sold on a whim.

It does not take long to find a structure of cloth and wood, and the whole of it soon emanates the rank, coppery tang of some interdimensional brand of gasoline.

Knives are useful tools. But they did not come with knives.

Or rather, they did not come only with knives.

One of the stalls is alight in a matter of moments. Red and gold tongues of flame gobbling the establishment whole, filling the place with both the color and light that it so lacked. Knobs of wood harvested from the wreckage form handy torches to set anything else aflame, to thoroughly raze the entire area to the ground, every stall and ship and vendor that supported and enabled the inflorescence of slave trafficking and slave keeping. Armed guards begin to converge on the disturbance at once. But small as said disturbance is, there is no guarantee that it will not come to grow.

That is, of course, where you come in.

One child alone cannot possibly take the entire place down, and flame can only take things so far. It is hardly enough when their aim is one of total destruction, however unrealistic an expectation that might be. They'll need help. Lots of it.

So won't you join the dance?

Comments

capture

[ventifact]

Rey remembers. She remembers the hell she'd been put through the last time she had been on this planet. She remembers the blood on her face and the grit in her teeth every time she'd been knocked to the ground for disobeying the gelatinous alien who had claimed her as their own. It had made her feel so weak, and on Jakku, weakness had meant death. But she hadn't been ready to die, had forced herself to persevere and live.

She knew that not everyone who had been taken to this planet had, and the thought makes her stomach turn in a way it never would have a year ago.

She knows there are people who had listened to that child's words and had taken them too close to heart. It had been stupid of them, of the child, of the people at the Ingress to let the coordinates to the Runoff be found. But Rey can't just sit idly by and let it all happen. Since leaving Jakku, she hasn't been good at that sort of thing, especially not with her Jedi masters whispering in her ear. You have the power to change this. She knows, she knows, but fear of this place sits heavy in her gut. Still, she makes herself travel through the portal, set foot on this damned ground again.

Everything is chaos, everything is screams.

But one scream sticks out above all--a child's, enraged and in pain. Rey forces herself to move towards it, dodging the flames and ducking out of sight when she senses someone approaching. When she finally reaches the group with the girl, she wants to vomit. The child is skewered like a bloggin over a campfire. Horror turns to rage, and Rey doesn't think before rushing forward, lightsaber already drawn and ignited with a hiss. She throws her arm out, sending two of the girl's captors flying without even touching them.

[coercive]

Laura only screams louder when she hears someone else approach. Grunting and trying to wriggle her way forward, she wants to shout out that she doesn't need any help. She can do this herself. But before she has time to start yelling in Spanish, the woman acts. Laura watches in awe as two of the slavers go flying. She goes quiet for a second, and still too. Thinking that Rey must be a mutant like her, she decides that they can finish this off together.

The two that are holding the rod that's run Laura through are stunned too, and she uses that chance to strike. Screaming in pain as she lurches far enough forward to be near one end of the rod, she uses all of her strength to burst the ties around her wrists. Her claws are out in a second, stabbing and slashing through the alien. His end of the rod drops, lowering Laura toward the ground. She hacks off the rod behind her, pulling the remains free as she scrambles up to her feet.

The remaining captors need to be dealt with, and Laura launches into action alongside Rey so she can help strike and kill.

[ventifact]

Rey is still rushing forward, giving the lightsaber an experimental twirl before preparing to use it. She hasn't wielded the weapon as anything but a tool in so long, but for some reason, it feels good to have it in her hands again, ready to strike an enemy. It feels right. She sees the girl basically disembowel one of the slavers, and it makes her stomach turn. But there is no other escape, as the alien's companions are drawing weapons of their own. Rey cannot find the focus to grasp the Force and perhaps use it in a nonviolent manner.

If her masters could see her, she wonders what they would say.

Before she can think about it too hard, the saber cuts through a slaver's arm, immediately searing and cauterizing the flesh. The creature screams, aiming its blaster pistol at her--the shot ricochets off the lightsaber's beam, finding a home smoking in a nearby boulder. Rey's elbow smashes into the alien's face, and it drops to her feet.