#irrfahrer

@irrfahrer ://

There was a pause. One pause in Ziv's maniacal diagnoses, and in that pause, Ben grinned somewhat and plopped his chin in his hand. (*The pink, puckered hand he'd almost lost to one of the Ren. Who was going to do what with it? Deliver it to Snoke? If one hand was all it took to impress, they must've been in dire straits. Seven knights, one hand—what were the odds? Kriffing incredible.*)

"You know what's wrong with me?" he said sweetly. "You. You're a monster."

As Ziv spoke the ancient sith narrowed his eyes. Inquisitors. Disrespectful and disgusting to thoes who wielded the forge on the behalf of the dark side. His cold gray hues narrowed deeply as she spoke. A friend he considered her. But the way she spoke of how she was inevitably treated by one so called Sidius made his blood boil with rage. The sith were once a great threat. Schools devoted to teaching the young in the art of darkness. There were higher up siths yes. But the rule of two was a rule that made him sick. Bane knew nothing of strength in numbers. Not like Kun did.

Even if the sith were to betray each other in the end. It was a use that made them a force to be reckoned with back four thousand years ago. As she dravled on about storm troopers. Kun turned to her. Stopping mid stride as he looked down at her with a huff. His chiseled chin curled into a scowl of disgust. Not towards her. But towards the subject. He wasn't as talkative as she was. He'd speak unless needed and this was a moment he spoke about.

"You follow a weak man. A kriffing mistake who had declared himself a god when he's no more than a weak disease and a disgrace to the sith. This so called 'rule of two' disgusts me. In my time there were no 'inquisitors'. There were Sith. No different to the Jedi. With my own students I had amassed two armies and took control of the galaxy with more than one sith by my side." His fist clenched tightly to the point a droid next to him was crushed in like a tin can." Its infuriating..you are more than cannon fodder. Your a sith. Not a damn slave." He looked to her. The honesty in his tone. He saw her like his old apprentice. As much as he missed him it was like him and Ziv were meant to be there. As short as she was he looked her in the eye." Your not just a sith. Your a person who kept me from losing my damn mind. Don't take at as me being mushy. I'm just being honest."

“If I were you, I wouldn´t go any kriffing inch closer to the ranks, because they are really moody and-”, The Tynnans pale ears had turned back, keeping track on the visitor while she watered the pods with lichen she had set up. By the following snarl from the ranks growing along the small greenhouses walls one of her ears flicked: “-ah yes, they bite as you just kriffing noticed. They like to bite, like yes, they really kriffing like to bite.” With a long, irritated sigh as if she was talking to a child the short woman leaned her back against the low table. She talked with a bored tune in her voice as if she had told the same a hundred times before: She did actually, everyone touched the always moving ranks, it was the first thing she did too when she had still been a agricultural student and had seen the plant in a laboratory: “Please do not hurt the plant, I needed months to raise it and no flora is better to filter out the air and give nutrients back into the soil.”

It isn't the first time Rhys has been inside an Atlas biodome. Even before its reemergence into prominence, he's visited enough artificially modified spaces to know the general rule of thumb: you don't touch shit unless you understand what's going on.

Still, he has to admire the Tynnan's dedication to the craft. Much as the back of his mind twinges with a mild annoyance, Rhys knows what it's like to have strangers in your workspace. (It's kind of ironic that he's the intruder now, though.)

"Sorry, Miss, uh... Ms. Odiz'Zee, right?" he starts, hands raised so she sees he isn't touching anything.

"I didn't come here to take any of your work out of the environment. I'm Rhys Strongfork" -- he wonders if she recognises his name -- "and I just wanted to see how things've been progressing here for myself.

Ziv had followed the scent like a sleuth- she was still a Healer despite her current position as a botanist and if she smelled something that resembled Adrenaline caused by pain, jumping into action was like an instinct. Accordingly she also promptly went into the role of a healer when reaching Iros, talking calmly to get his attention and slowly inching closer. “...So yeh, not gonna lie, I am pretty kriffing sure that you do not belong to the native fauna or flora of this planet. Not at kriffing all. Like,-” the Tynnan leaned her head back and sniffed in the air again, pulling in the scent that smelled more like burned stone and molten minerals than the smell of blood that she as someone specialised on healingherbs was used to since the first day of her training, years ago. The scent stitched into her nostrils like needles, something that made her whiskers and pelt bristle and automatically she started to rub a small paw over her colourless snout and flews, trying to get rid of the scent that even seemed to now burn on her tounge and down her throat. Something in the back of her mind, the small little animal that had yet not become a apex predetor or even sentient, the small little animal from which Tynnan had developed millenias ago, screamed at her to get away, to run, to bring as much distance between her and the (monster, the small animal in the back of her mind screamed) (danger, the small animal in the back of her mind cried) (death, the small animal in the back of her mind begged) ‘ other’ as fast as possible. Ziv, although knowing better, ignored it for now and carefully  walked even closer, sniffing again despite her disgust for the scent in the air for any kind of pheromones that could tell her about the others state or injuries: “- no kriffing offence there, but you definitive do not look like what I had been studying and documenting the last six kriffing months of my kriffing sorry life, full stop. On a completly different sidenote, though-” The Tynnans fluffy ears flicked up alerted,  listening attentive as she continued to talk and with that still walked closer carefully: “-do you even kriffing understand me or is just the isolation getting to me and I am talking to not sentient lifeforms again? I mean, its kriffing possible, not gonna kriffing lie, happned before and will happen kriffing again, lifes kriffing hard and all.” @irrfahrer

"What the fuck are you talking about." The creature speaks despite not having a clear mouth, though given the amount of black ichor covering the ground, it seems likely there's one in there somewhere. It's quite big too, probably seven feet from front to end. Six tendrils are waving wildly, hooked ends latching into anything they can.

Iros, meanwhile, is feeling like complete shit. Something is wrong, and he's not sure what precisely that could be. The amount of ichore he's vomited makes him wonder if it's something he ate, and if maybe there's something else wrong with him.

The moan he lets out is oddly...human. In fact, his voice sounds like a Regular Guy and not a creature that's currently pathetically trying to get on his feet.

The young pilot's eyes darted about the space beyond the Inquisitor. "G-ghost...stories?" He managed to squeak out. He wasn't bound, and he didn't need to be. Force User he may be, but Theo was untrained, had been on the run from the Empire since he was a mere handful of years old and Storm Troopers had invaded Corellia at the very beginning of the Purge.

His luck, it seemed, had run out. He was out-matched in skill and strength. Theo's abilities were mere whimsy and games, little tricks he used to enhance his flying and avoiding capture... and he'd failed in that. Fear was what kept the pilot pinned in place now. He had backed as far from the Inquisitor as he could until hitting a wall and now he looked beyond her where, indeed, ghosts lurked.

Shambling forms moved about the room that seemed to have grown and darkened until he couldn't see the edges anymore. His eyes were blown wide and looked to the woman. Even she had changed, flickering in and out of both his eyesight and his meager Force sense, her appearance fair one moment, rotted the next.

Theo whimpered as his senses were bombarded and overwhelmed. Not just his eyes, not just what he felt or saw through the Force either, but even smell. The room began to fill with fumes like long-rotted flesh, infection, putrefaction. He covered his face and slid down the wall to sit on the floor as his eyes watered and his nose began to run. He could taste the decay.

"How does...one...how do I get out of this story?" He asked.