Lucyeth
#13700

A quif of the wind rustled against the polka-dot shorts that sported the strong, tiger-tinted thighs of Lexiconus as he clunked his hands against the warmth of his white coffee. His eyes darted down the southern hall, which seemed ghostly as the charcoal banners curled and glided across the marble floor. Still not a soul in sight to collect a warm drink on this frosty winter’s morning, as the dew of the fields close by crawled through the open windows. The Quarren was unsure of what to do here, as he regularly use to chat with Daedric about the current affairs of the battleteam. The Warrior turned on his blue knitted squid slippers and pulled up a leather-faux chair in the cantina, then sat near a circular glass table and proceeded to groggily search for brown sugar. He scooped up two sachets between his dry fingers and tapped them lightly against the ceramic of his favourite silver mug. As the thin paper bags of sugar crystals tapped the rim of his steaming mug, a small clink could be heard from somewhere afar, living as just an echo. At first the sound was just part of the ambience inside the citadel, new building with new machinery.

“It just needed warming up.” Lexic thought to himself, ripping the heads of the satchels and slowly pouring them in the concoction of stimulants. The pieces of sugar that disappeared into the fluids scratched and grinded against one another so clearly, and yet the same sound was heard into the ambience around Lexic. The very same grinding of something heavy, and the scratching against something afar, stuck inside his head. His cerulean eyes darted across the immediate area and assessed the dimly-lit and abandoned room, nothing out of the ordinary. Another shiver shot up his spine as his mentality was getting the better of him, he thought it was silly to think something was monitoring him in such a well-armed fortification. However considering the lack of Force-users in this normally bustling room, his conscience began to ponder on the possibility of invasion. Suddenly like a shock to his body, a cracking shot through the air from the southern corridor and caused the Quarren to spill his luke-warm coffee onto the table and his shorts. His wide and twitchy eyes darted down the hallway, trying to pierce through the wispy veil curling and rising like a dance of phantoms.

From inside this unnatural cloth from the morning, a pale complexion arose and limped down towards Lexic. It’s muddy and bony hands extended and clawed the air, as chains snaked and constricted it’s arms with padlocks. Coming further into clarity, the figure was covered from head to toe in a snow white cloth that was unnaturally spotted with rustic stains. It’s twig-like legs slowly moved as the feet of this spectral grazed against the tiles, the same chains twisted and locked into place by strange chests of unknown origin. A raspy and wheezy whisper echoed from under the cloth as the figure limped closer and into the dim lights of the cantina. Unarmed and unprepared, Lexic whom became stunned in paralysis did not move from his soaked chair, and dug his fingers into the fabric of his seat. The clinks of the chains, and the grinding of the boxes against the flooring became all too familiar now, as the phantom now limped directly in front of the petrified Quarren until it was in reach. As if from exhaustion the being fell into Lexic and snarled out in a grotesque and frothy manner, shoving it’s face directly against the shrieking expression of Lexic. Then a small titter arose from behind the sheet as it were slowly pulled upwards.

“It’s amazing was a bit of chicken blood onto an old cloth and some mechanical gear from the hangar can do. Right, Lexic?” Bentre Stahoes appeared from behind the rags and chuckled louder this time, as he sponged the spilt coffee from the chair, then stood and tapped the Warrior’s shoulder.

“C’mon sport, you’re late to our long scouting mission. We’re cleaning up the last of Chelidon’s men and I know you’d never miss that.” The Devil’s Shroud leader then left the cantina with a peach, Lexic still hanging with a shocked expression.

Lucyeth
#13700

The darkness of night and the looming fog from the swamps nearby crept and slithered across the fields in front of the Great Haunted Mansion of Terror. The corpses of grass and trees littered the yard with broken pieces and a landscaped land forgotten to time. The high rising and rustic fences that blocked the land creaked while the fog blew through them, and evidence of a gate for the mansion was the only thing left. The building itself gave off an ancient and isolation feel, from the lack of lighting, the unkempt walls and no indication what this place is called. The porch in the front held a single rocking chair that was already in the process of rotting away, as leaves and twigs piled against it. A singular pair of boots and a metallic water bowl reminds us of a past life this luxurious place used to be. Lexiconus pushed the soft wood door aside and stepped into a rather small hallway with tiny family portraits and no aesthetic decorations remaining. From the corner of his eye, the Quarren saw some sort of shadow move past in the nearby parlour. He quickly turned his head and only spotted the heel of something big. Then he felt the cold hands against his neck and he sprang from the floor.

“Boo! Ha!” The voice behind him shockingly shouted as it giggled. Lexic quickly turned with a fist ready to find Bentre Stahoes behind him.

“Got you that time, Squid! C’mon let’s go ghost hunting. There’s definitely a ghoul in here.” Lexic nodded in response to Bentre.

“Agreed, I saw someone coming from the parlour and they ran away. If we can be quick, we can catch them!” Lexic replied and ran ahead of Bentre into the parlour, with the Human following with surprise of the Quarren’s haste.

They swung around the corner with swiftness and found themselves entering an old and dirty kitchen area, with broken shelves and windows, and the floor covered in leaf litter and mushrooms. A quick and bright flash of lightning crack through the broken window, which caused Lexic to quickly jump into Bentre’s arms.

“Gah!” Lexic clung to Bentre’s arms tightly as he looked around in fear. The Human just growled and dropped him onto the floor.

“Stop being a girl, Lexi and let’s pick up the pace!” Bentre was displeased and stepped over the shivering Quarren as he noticed a shroud disappearing into the garden shed. With determination on his mind, the Sith quickly flicked his lightsaber to life and rushed forward across the kitchen and smashed through the backdoor. Bentre tumbled across the sandy yard along with the shards from the door and grunted as a piece lodged itself into his leg. From behind him, Lexic slowly looked up to notice the spectacle and chuckled to himself. The Quarren got to his knees and grumbled under his breath about justice served, while picked some edible mushrooms from the kitchen and nibbling them. He crawled across the floor collecting mushrooms until he came across a broken cupboard with tin cans inside. Lexic saw some of them were rusted and no good for eating, but as he fiddled with the heavy cans of mold and worked his hands into the back, a shining label caught his eye. One of a chocolate base with yellow custard topping and orange slices on the top, Lexic felt his stomach rumble as he dreamed of the chocolate.

“Cake!” The Warrior shouted as he grabbed the tin, then used a scalpel from his bag and quickly opened the tin, digging into the cake with his tentacles in joy.

“Lexic! Get your butt over here!” Bentre shouted from the garden impatiently. The Quarren dropped his tin and quickly rushed over from the floor, his eyes glancing over the deep wound caused by the door shrapnel. With a sigh, he knelt near Bentre’s leg and began to yank the pieces out of the Knight’s bleeding leg.

“You have got to be more careful, rushing through locked doors like that can be very lethal. Glass cutting your veins, infected wood poisoning you, even parasites could wriggle their way into those valuable legs. Although I could borrow them from you.” Lexic gave a chuckle as he pictured modelling Bentre’s amputated legs in modelling and the catwalk. Then from the shed a giant beast burst through and limped over to the duo roaring and spitting in pure anger. The Quarren let out a very high pitched scream, similar to that of a girl who met her favourite celebrity. Bentre saw the beast and let out his own wilhelm shriek as he clung to Lexic and shakingly aimed his lightsaber. Then a hysterical laughter came from within the covers.

“You should of seen your face, it was so funny!” The voice was familiar to Bentre and as the cover was pulled away to reveal Tasha, the blue Twi’lek who played a jester on multiple occasions. Rage slowly began to fill the expression of Bentre as he felt a need for revenge.

“Oh you are going down Twi’lek!” Bentre roared out as he tackled the female to the ground and tried to wrestle her into restraint.