Yuku free message boards

Welcome to Sithlore!
I welcome the opportunity to RP with you. If there is anything that you need to know, feel free to contact me.
I plan to post a reply to add onto this RP in a bit..

Leaping rooftop to rooftop. In this old industrial sector of Corellia, moving discreetly and quickly was easy. Vladimir had no pack to slow him down, but the numerous disassembled guns in the pockets of his overcoat weighed him down.
The old contract had been cancelled, and it aggravated the Shadow-mercenary. He had been led to a decent-sized hotel room where he was to stay for two days. The people who contacted Vladimir and brought him out to this planet refused to pay even a fee for contact termination, but at least they would pay for all expenses.
But he had only been in the room for a few hours when the agent informed Achlohr that there had been anew development. the contract was to be reinstated, but a section was added. Vladimir was not only to follow Jasra, but protect her as well. The payment was multiplied threefold.

The line of buildings ended. If Vladimir took another step, he would find himself falling off of a sheer 125 meter drop. At ground level, a walkway ran parallel to the building on which Vladimir stood. It branched out at one point and ran into a dim alleyway; a chasm between two abandoned factories. Vladimir had a clear view of the entire length. It was cluttered with debris and junk.
Achlohr quickly located the woman whom he was paid to defend. She appeared to be standing on a slightly corroded pile of crates, while hanging onto a gutter and looking into a window near the top level of yet another old a dumpy processing plant. He winced as he saw the rusted gutter fold under Jasra's weight. The young-looking female human leapt away from the stack of plasteel boxes and hit the ground, but did not seem to be injured by the fall. Her head whipped around frantically, seeking a place to hide. She ducked behind a forgotten piece of machinery. She had drawn her blaster pistol. To this, Achlohr reached into the inner folds of his overcoat and pulled out the pieces of his A-295 sniper rifle.
First the forestock. Then attack the stock, and after that, the barrel.

The front doors the the old plant bursts open. Armed men stormed out, turned the corner, and opened fire at will. The angry storm of red bolts was met by the yellow shots from Jasra's pistol. Down went one man, now another. One more dropped, clutching his shoulder in agony.

Slip in a magazine, and attach the scope. He did not have a bipod, so Vladimir just got down to one knee and did his best to steady his aim.

Jasra emptied what was left of her clip into one more gangster. She ducked down to reload. The last two armed bandits took this opportunity to charge.
Vladimir put the scope to his eye, steadied the dot, and pulled the trigger. The bright blue bolt split the air and crashed into the skull of the leading man. It carried all the way through and dissipated into the ground. The forward momentum of the body made it crash to the ground. The last gangster was started by his friend's head suddenly exploding. He turned to look for the assailant, but never thought to scan the rooftops. Achlohr smiled at the bewildered look on his next victim's face. It was doused in a spray of blood. Another pull of the trigger sent a shot into the point of center mass of the tattooed human. Once again, the shot fully penetrated the body, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. The cadaver fell to the ground in a puddle of its own and its comrade's blood.
Vladimir took his finger off the trigger of the gun and surveyed the carnage. The were small stacks of bodies littering the alley. He looked for Jasra, and found that she was still alive. She had put another clip into her personal weapon and was wearing a mask of focus. Her eyes scanned the face of the building that Achlohr was crouching on. She suddenly threw herself to the ground. She must have thought that Vladimir was in league with whoever was attacking her.
Movement caught the mercenary's peripheral vision. Another wave of baddies ran out the front door and turned the corner to the alley. Before any of them could open fire, Jasra leapt from her cover, firing while sailing through the air. She took up a new position on the other side of the alley. Vladimir waited at his vantage point and dared the thugs to deny him a big, fat paycheck.

The new wave of armed killers stepped over their fallen brethren like they weren't even there. And they were dispatched in a similar fashion and left to join their fallen brethren in whatever afterlife they believed in. Headshot, center mass, impromptu amputation. So many ways to kill a man with a gun. The ones that did not die were left to bleed out on the ground.

Once again, the battlefield became still. Many bodies were sprawled at odd and unnatural angles. Some courtesy of Jasra's handy-dandy blaster, and the rest due to Vladimir's handiwork with a sniper. The mercenary on the roof surveyed the carnage one last time. Once he was satisfied that nobody except for Jasra moved, he packed up his A-295.
Eject magazine, stow it. Take off the barrel and put it away. Remove the stock from the forestock and put them in their respective compartments. Achlohr finished packing up his weapon and looked back at the bloody alley. In the time it had taken him to take apart his gun, one of the downed men had gotten up and thrown himself at Jasra. He was on top of her, but only until the street-smart woman delivered a swift kick to his nether-regions. Vladimir saw the man double over and stumble back. Achlohr could imagine the whoosh of air that had just been expelled from his lungs. A flash of reflected light told of a blade in his hand.
Time seemed to slow down. Jasra dove for her pistol, retrieved it, and raised it to the man's head.

There was no yellow flash. The man still stood. The clip must be empty. Vladimir knew there was not much time before the attacker reoriented himself. The merc looked down and discovered an unstable-looking ladder on the face of the building that he was standing on. It must have been part of a fire escape.
Vladimir stood and became a black speck in the sun. His original plan was to protect Jasra from afar, but the circumstances had changed. Stealth had become unimportant. With any luck, both Jasra and the last gang member would be too focused on each other to notice him.
He jumped forward and rotated his body. He caught the ladder by its sides and slid down. The air swirled around him as he descended, causing his black overcoat to flap around as if it had a mind of its own. He hit the ground feet first and bent his knees to absorb the shock. Vladimir then turned to the mouth of the alley and sprinted towards the man and woman, leaping over bodies as he went. His overcoat danced dramatically behind him.
The man stood up straight and lunged at Jasra, who had assumed a defensive stance. She held her weapon like she was prepared to pistol-whip her attacker. The gangster swung his free arm and knocked Jasra's blaster from her grasp. It clattered to the ground. The man took Jasra by the throat and raised his knife. He wasn't going to take prisoners, so neither was Vladimir. The merc reached to his belt and pulled out a vibro shiv. The gang-banger was about to bring his knife down. But Vladimir got to him first. He plunged his little dagger into the man's back. The blade buried itself between the spine and the shoulder blade and punctured a lung. The surprise attack made the foul-smelling evil-doer cough up blood, which sprayed a red mist over Jasra's face.
The knife dropped from the man's raised hand as the life force left him. He sank to his knees and fell to the side, revealing the black-clad Vladimir standing over his body, the blood-stained blade in his hand.

She attacked him. She tried to, anyway.
But of she did. She did not know who he was. But she could have at least waited to ask what he wanted.
The other side of the coin: the adrenaline was racing through her bloodstream. She must be tired. She just passed an arm length away from death, and didn't even have her gun to defend herself with against this new stranger. Her mind was clouded.

Jasra's hand flew towards her leg as she attempted to draw a vibro-blade from a hidden leg sheath. The sudden movement made Vladimir's military training kick in. He crumpled into a kneeling position and, with a slight growl of annoyance, grabbed her hand with his left. Achlohr was quick for his size.
And he was also very strong. A sharp tug on her wrist made Jasra tumble to the ground. The air was forced from her lungs. The vibro-blade forgotten, the woman struggled to grasp Vladimir's wrists. It seemed like she was trying to flip him over, but he held inert like a statue.
Jasra continued to struggle, but each movement felt weaker then the one before it. Sweat soaked her brow. Vladimir wasn't even breathing hard.
"Whatever you have in mind...it won't...come easy for you. This I promise you." It was the first words he heard her say, and they were dripping with resentment and hostility. Her eyes matched her words.
"If I let you go, you're going to be nice, ok?" Vladimir reached inside his coat and pulled out a DL-22 pistol and showed her that the safety was off to emphasize his point. Slowly, he released Jasra and stood up. Vladimir walked backwards a few steps, but he kept the barrel of the gun pointed forward.
'I'm not here to kill you, so please don't make me shoot you. I'd hate to lose this contract. Just sit still, and don't do anything stupid,' the mercenary thought.

He originally thought to stick with Jasra after their encounter and be her bodyguard by her side. It then donned on him that it would be better to continue to protect her from a distance. She would be less bother some and ask less questions this way.
Achlohr could see her, and if all was going as planned, she wouldn't be able to see him. Vladimir looked through his binocs to see Jasra looking through hers. She was lying prone on the top of some rubble that used to be part of a building and watching some run-down processing plant that should have been demolished years ago. Somebody could make a lot of money if they tore down this entire neighborhood and set up condos, or something.
Jasra stowed her spying equipment and rose to a crouch. She checked her surroundings before sprinting to the side of a slightly rusted hover-car. The darkening skies made the woman a little more than a shadow. The ex-bounty hunter leaned over the vehicle, and eventually slipped through the door. An ominous white-yellow glow sputtered to life on the underside of the car as the old repulsor drives fired up. But it didn't go anywhere. What was that woman waiting for?
A mottled green hover-truck rose from the far side of the production facility. It gained altitude, wobbled, and then set off to its destination at a speed that didn't seem possible for such and old-looking piece of equipment. And Jasra continued to stay where she was. After a better part of a minute, the hover-car that she occupied, stolen now, lifted off from the desolate pad and followed the truck into the darkening distance.

Vladimir was left on the rooftop in the slowly corroding industrial sector of Corellia. This wasn't much of a problem, as he had rented a cheap two-seater speeder bike. Achlohr put his binocs in the saddle bag, climbed on the seat, and took off. The engine was quiet, and that was why he had rented out this particular bike. stealth was his main ally on this mission. With a faint whine, the soldier-for-hire shot forward and rode at a low height. The mysterious truck had long gone out of sight, and so had Jasra's stolen car. This wasn't much of a problem. Vladimir had slipped a small tracking device onto his protectee's sleeve.