05-16-2015, 04:19 AM
"What in Seven Hells..." was all Jon could murmur as the speeder slowed to a halt, and rolled up onto the scene.
Much to his own shock, a full-on battle was unfurling before his very eyes. And what surprised the bastard Snow even more was the fact of who was fighting who. It was an all out Stormtrooper war; every man in sight was clad in the familiar black and white armour, blasting away at one another with everything they had. The loud bangs and shots of gunfire filled the air and atmosphere. The alarming and indistinct sounds made Jon tensen up slightly as they filled his ears. Was Jon missing the point here? Was this some sort of absurd training procedure that he was witnessing? Judging from the bloodcurdling cries and screams, the death and the few minuscule explosions, Jon had high doubts that this was some kind of programmed procedure or staged event.
This was a surprise attack.
Jon turned to Josef, as if for some kind of confirmation. The stoical, no-nonsense Stormtrooper Sergeant who had had him on a leash earlier in Corucsant had fell deathly silent. He'd made the decision not long into their car journey to remove the helmet, setting it aside in the gap between the two front seats; too stuffy and compressed under the visor, he'd complained. Without the helm, Josef was a balding, late-aged man of about four-and-ten. Slight wrinkles dotted the area under his eyes; a clear hint to the Lord Commander than Josef was reaching a bit beyond his prime years. He was a relatively unshaven man, the first hints of stubble having emerged around the area of his lips to show a regrowing goatee-patch. Sea green eyes glared darkly forward, observing the scene with intent, and an almost worried and digressing look on his face.
"Now's the time... it's now, or never..." Josef's stern, deep voice echoed throughout Jon's brain. But his lips... they never even parted. What the fuck?
Snow barely had time to react as Josef emerged from the vehicle, swiftly unbuckling the strap the held him to the seat and flinging the speeder door open. He was apparently opting to leave his blaster rifle and helmet inside the car. "What are you doing..?" was all Jon had a chance to say before the Sergeant had concluded his stride over to Jon's end of the vehicle. Ripping the door open, Josef clasped at the back of Jon's head with an iron grip, slamming his face down against the hard, solid car-edge. The force of the smash was more than enough to stun Jon Snow, and when he was shoved from the vehicle, he simply collapsed down onto his front in weakness, disorientated and concussed.
Jon felt a blunt force apply pressure down upon his backload, pinning him down even further - Josef's knee. The Sergeant was tacked onto him, a pistol in one hand and a smaller, non-firearm object held in the other. The tip of it ran straight down, forming a sharp, thing point, good for stabbing. A needle.
"This is nothing personal here, kiddo" Josef shrugged rather effortlessly. "Heck, I was starting to like you. You know when to keep your mouth shut. I like that in people" the turncloak of a soldier shot his crumpled opponent a grim smirk. He applied more of his weight down upon Jon, causing the bastard to groan and crease in hurt. "We could of used you without this, but then again... this option just makes it easier for all of us now, doesn't it?" Josef posed the question, and Jon didn't spare him any answer. The Sergeant tilted his head as he raised his vaccine in the air, looking ready to bring it down on Jon in an injecting motion...
BANG!
The Sergeant screamed out in pain as a round was fired at his shoulder from afar. Josef toppled off of Jon instinctively, his grip on the needle having loosened from the sudden surge of pain, the vaccine slipping from his hands and onto the white-painted floor. He kept an unsteady handling on his glock, stumbling back to his feet, back resting against the car bonnet to catch a breather and recover. His free hand clasped at his wounded shoulder.
There's my chance... Jon figured to himself quickly, too caught up to give the important factor of whom fired the shot and where it came from any consideration. Bouncing back onto his feet quickly, Jon spun around to face the turncloak, quickly drawing Longclaw from it's sheath, glove hands grasping tightly around the bastard swords hilt. Jon made sure to keep his blade held out in front of him in an offensive kind of stance - they stood quite close apart, after all, and Josef wasn't far at all from his swords reach.
Josef scowled. Still refusing to accept the twist of events, he brought his pistol up, taking a weak aim at the cloaked man before him.
"If I can't turn you... then I'll kill you, you basta-" Josef's speech was cut short by a screech of pain. With a flick of his wrist, Jon had thwacked the blunt edge of his weapon against the Sergeant's forearm, the gun flying from his hand and skidding across the floor. Josef repulsed, gripping at his wrist in pain.
Jon didn't show the traitor a second of mercy.
Steadying his blade once more, the bastard took his moment, rushing forward with a grunt. Thrusting his sword forward, he ran the bald-man straight through the neck. Josef's head arched backward naturally from the blade poking through his escoghagus. He wheezed and rasped for his last breaths, eyes wide with fear and shock. Blood oozed and spurted from his maw,, the traitor spluttering up the red stuff in rugged, weak coughs.
Jon stared triumphantly up at his dying foe, pressing a fist against the Sergeants unseating chest as he drew a bloodied sword from his opponents throat. Josef's corpse slumped weakly down against the speeder's front, lifeless and limp.
He had won.
And survived. But he wouldn't stay like that for long, he knew, unless he got down to the bottom of what exactly was going on and what his plan of action should be next. Jon turned back around to the battlefield, and his fight or flight senses began to immediately kick in...
Should he run?
Jon tensed at the thought. Nobody appeared to be watching him, and Jon could easily slip away unnoticed, and tread as deep and far into this white void as he needed too before he'd find himself back in Westeros, or at his post at the wall. But... no.
Jon couldn't run. He had told the Judge he wouldn't, and Jon wasn't a man to take his own words with a grain of salt. He was his fathers son in that, at least, many liked to remind him.
Snow took a few steps forward, raising his sword slightly upward as he walked, his long, black fur-cloak trailing down behind him.
And then he paused.
He'd almost forgot. Turning back, he took a moment to sheath his sword before backtrailing his steps, moving over to where the Sergeant had dropped the sharp needle he was clutching onto. Crouching down beside it, the bastard carefully reached down and retrieved it between his fingers, examining it carefully yet quickly.
In the sharp glance over he took of it, the luminous green liquid that flowed through the glass cylinder stuck out like a sore thumb to Jon. He figured he'd have more time to mull over it later, but for now he needed to get moving. Rising back to his feet, he buckled the vaccine quickly at the back of his belt, the injection concealed by Jon's length and layered attire. "Could need that for later" he acknowledged to himself with a grumble and a nod, before spinning quickly on his heel, drawing his sword once more as he dashed rather blindly toward the thick of battle.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The intense sounds of gunfire battered against Jon's eardrums. He winced a little as he continued his quick advance, his grip on his blade tightening.
"HAAAARGH!" Jon let out a scream of battle as he thrusted his blade in a forward motion. Having caught a stray, firing Stormtrooper with his back turned, Jon had revelled in his moment of anonymity. He struck his sword forth and impaled the man straight through his chest, his Valyrian Steel cutting through his white armour as though it were bread and butter. The soldier let out one last shriek of surprise and pain as the steel was plunged straight through him, his body going limp and lifeless and falling forward as Jon ripped the steel from his flesh.
Another Stormtrooper turned around as the sound of a scream sounded out behind him. His reflexes were fast, Jon had to owe him that. But not fast enough. The soldier didn't even have time or chance to open fire as the bastard charged him down. He deftly threw up his rifles side to block against the wrath of Jon's blade, holding the gun on both ends. The blaster had caught on the sword, and with all his strength, the Trooper began to push it away...
Jon bared his teeth, swinging his leg up to kick his foot at the underside of the mans crotch.
Bad move.
Jon creased and writhed with pain, the Stormtroopers armour and "extra-torso padding" had managed to save his little prick from Jon's boot, and had only injured him in the process. Jon stumbled back instinctively, feet quickly scuffling to regain the correct fighting posture and stance. The Stormtrooper took a moment to size his opponent down, before rushing forward, aiming to fend Jon away by utilising his rifle as a melee tool.
Jon swiftly ducked down as the Trooper swung his gun toward him. Bouncing back up behind him, Jon twirled his blade and body back around, slashing his blade horizontally across the back of the soldiers legs, aiming to disable him. Such an attempt was only successful, the Trooper falling to his knees as the sword caught him at a spot of weakness.
Staring down at downed foe, Jon lifted his blade back up. As the Stormtrooper's head was bowed, it left a slight opening in his armour defences. Jon twisted his blade around, so the tip of his sword was pointing down toward the Stormtroopers back. He sent Longclaw plunging down through the mans spine with a grunt. The soldier let out no screams of pain or cries for clemency; only raspy gurgles and chokes. Blood oozed and and poured from the spot where Jon's sword has mashed through the skin. Jon brought his foot up, pressing it against the newly-made corpses back, pulling a thrice bloodied sword free from his back.
Jon took a moment to pause and discern what was around him. Snow was teetering more toward the edge of the battlefield; most of the men had barely recognised his nearby presence, and were still firing all they had against one another. The battlefield was much more divided entering the centre, no man daring to be courageous enough to dash out onto the open field and into the hottest line of fire.
Something else caught Jon's eye the most, though. A raven haired boy dressed in blue was making a steady travel over toward him. He glared over at Snow with dilated pupils and an almost hungry and wolfish glare. Jon squinted, taking a few steps back as he readied himself on the defensive front once more. The distant boy's hand began to pulsate and spark with a sort of electronic energy. The blast pulsated with his palm, growing larger, and larger...
As Snow braced himself for some kind of impact, something unexpected happened.
The boy turned.
He cast his eyes over toward another Stormtrooper. The attire and armour of this one was much different than the rest's he'd seen so far, though. Badges of honour and prestige littered his chest, signifying his status as a veteran or commander of sorts. He stood a fair distance away from the super-charged youth, but the boy in blue glared at him as though he could see right through him. Spinning on his heel, the young ninja began his charge on his target...
Jon Snow bit down hard on his lip, progressing deeper into the thick of the fight with quick-paced, hasty steps.
Much to his own shock, a full-on battle was unfurling before his very eyes. And what surprised the bastard Snow even more was the fact of who was fighting who. It was an all out Stormtrooper war; every man in sight was clad in the familiar black and white armour, blasting away at one another with everything they had. The loud bangs and shots of gunfire filled the air and atmosphere. The alarming and indistinct sounds made Jon tensen up slightly as they filled his ears. Was Jon missing the point here? Was this some sort of absurd training procedure that he was witnessing? Judging from the bloodcurdling cries and screams, the death and the few minuscule explosions, Jon had high doubts that this was some kind of programmed procedure or staged event.
This was a surprise attack.
Jon turned to Josef, as if for some kind of confirmation. The stoical, no-nonsense Stormtrooper Sergeant who had had him on a leash earlier in Corucsant had fell deathly silent. He'd made the decision not long into their car journey to remove the helmet, setting it aside in the gap between the two front seats; too stuffy and compressed under the visor, he'd complained. Without the helm, Josef was a balding, late-aged man of about four-and-ten. Slight wrinkles dotted the area under his eyes; a clear hint to the Lord Commander than Josef was reaching a bit beyond his prime years. He was a relatively unshaven man, the first hints of stubble having emerged around the area of his lips to show a regrowing goatee-patch. Sea green eyes glared darkly forward, observing the scene with intent, and an almost worried and digressing look on his face.
"Now's the time... it's now, or never..." Josef's stern, deep voice echoed throughout Jon's brain. But his lips... they never even parted. What the fuck?
Snow barely had time to react as Josef emerged from the vehicle, swiftly unbuckling the strap the held him to the seat and flinging the speeder door open. He was apparently opting to leave his blaster rifle and helmet inside the car. "What are you doing..?" was all Jon had a chance to say before the Sergeant had concluded his stride over to Jon's end of the vehicle. Ripping the door open, Josef clasped at the back of Jon's head with an iron grip, slamming his face down against the hard, solid car-edge. The force of the smash was more than enough to stun Jon Snow, and when he was shoved from the vehicle, he simply collapsed down onto his front in weakness, disorientated and concussed.
Jon felt a blunt force apply pressure down upon his backload, pinning him down even further - Josef's knee. The Sergeant was tacked onto him, a pistol in one hand and a smaller, non-firearm object held in the other. The tip of it ran straight down, forming a sharp, thing point, good for stabbing. A needle.
"This is nothing personal here, kiddo" Josef shrugged rather effortlessly. "Heck, I was starting to like you. You know when to keep your mouth shut. I like that in people" the turncloak of a soldier shot his crumpled opponent a grim smirk. He applied more of his weight down upon Jon, causing the bastard to groan and crease in hurt. "We could of used you without this, but then again... this option just makes it easier for all of us now, doesn't it?" Josef posed the question, and Jon didn't spare him any answer. The Sergeant tilted his head as he raised his vaccine in the air, looking ready to bring it down on Jon in an injecting motion...
BANG!
The Sergeant screamed out in pain as a round was fired at his shoulder from afar. Josef toppled off of Jon instinctively, his grip on the needle having loosened from the sudden surge of pain, the vaccine slipping from his hands and onto the white-painted floor. He kept an unsteady handling on his glock, stumbling back to his feet, back resting against the car bonnet to catch a breather and recover. His free hand clasped at his wounded shoulder.
There's my chance... Jon figured to himself quickly, too caught up to give the important factor of whom fired the shot and where it came from any consideration. Bouncing back onto his feet quickly, Jon spun around to face the turncloak, quickly drawing Longclaw from it's sheath, glove hands grasping tightly around the bastard swords hilt. Jon made sure to keep his blade held out in front of him in an offensive kind of stance - they stood quite close apart, after all, and Josef wasn't far at all from his swords reach.
Josef scowled. Still refusing to accept the twist of events, he brought his pistol up, taking a weak aim at the cloaked man before him.
"If I can't turn you... then I'll kill you, you basta-" Josef's speech was cut short by a screech of pain. With a flick of his wrist, Jon had thwacked the blunt edge of his weapon against the Sergeant's forearm, the gun flying from his hand and skidding across the floor. Josef repulsed, gripping at his wrist in pain.
Jon didn't show the traitor a second of mercy.
Steadying his blade once more, the bastard took his moment, rushing forward with a grunt. Thrusting his sword forward, he ran the bald-man straight through the neck. Josef's head arched backward naturally from the blade poking through his escoghagus. He wheezed and rasped for his last breaths, eyes wide with fear and shock. Blood oozed and spurted from his maw,, the traitor spluttering up the red stuff in rugged, weak coughs.
Jon stared triumphantly up at his dying foe, pressing a fist against the Sergeants unseating chest as he drew a bloodied sword from his opponents throat. Josef's corpse slumped weakly down against the speeder's front, lifeless and limp.
He had won.
And survived. But he wouldn't stay like that for long, he knew, unless he got down to the bottom of what exactly was going on and what his plan of action should be next. Jon turned back around to the battlefield, and his fight or flight senses began to immediately kick in...
Should he run?
Jon tensed at the thought. Nobody appeared to be watching him, and Jon could easily slip away unnoticed, and tread as deep and far into this white void as he needed too before he'd find himself back in Westeros, or at his post at the wall. But... no.
Jon couldn't run. He had told the Judge he wouldn't, and Jon wasn't a man to take his own words with a grain of salt. He was his fathers son in that, at least, many liked to remind him.
Snow took a few steps forward, raising his sword slightly upward as he walked, his long, black fur-cloak trailing down behind him.
And then he paused.
He'd almost forgot. Turning back, he took a moment to sheath his sword before backtrailing his steps, moving over to where the Sergeant had dropped the sharp needle he was clutching onto. Crouching down beside it, the bastard carefully reached down and retrieved it between his fingers, examining it carefully yet quickly.
In the sharp glance over he took of it, the luminous green liquid that flowed through the glass cylinder stuck out like a sore thumb to Jon. He figured he'd have more time to mull over it later, but for now he needed to get moving. Rising back to his feet, he buckled the vaccine quickly at the back of his belt, the injection concealed by Jon's length and layered attire. "Could need that for later" he acknowledged to himself with a grumble and a nod, before spinning quickly on his heel, drawing his sword once more as he dashed rather blindly toward the thick of battle.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The intense sounds of gunfire battered against Jon's eardrums. He winced a little as he continued his quick advance, his grip on his blade tightening.
"HAAAARGH!" Jon let out a scream of battle as he thrusted his blade in a forward motion. Having caught a stray, firing Stormtrooper with his back turned, Jon had revelled in his moment of anonymity. He struck his sword forth and impaled the man straight through his chest, his Valyrian Steel cutting through his white armour as though it were bread and butter. The soldier let out one last shriek of surprise and pain as the steel was plunged straight through him, his body going limp and lifeless and falling forward as Jon ripped the steel from his flesh.
Another Stormtrooper turned around as the sound of a scream sounded out behind him. His reflexes were fast, Jon had to owe him that. But not fast enough. The soldier didn't even have time or chance to open fire as the bastard charged him down. He deftly threw up his rifles side to block against the wrath of Jon's blade, holding the gun on both ends. The blaster had caught on the sword, and with all his strength, the Trooper began to push it away...
Jon bared his teeth, swinging his leg up to kick his foot at the underside of the mans crotch.
Bad move.
Jon creased and writhed with pain, the Stormtroopers armour and "extra-torso padding" had managed to save his little prick from Jon's boot, and had only injured him in the process. Jon stumbled back instinctively, feet quickly scuffling to regain the correct fighting posture and stance. The Stormtrooper took a moment to size his opponent down, before rushing forward, aiming to fend Jon away by utilising his rifle as a melee tool.
Jon swiftly ducked down as the Trooper swung his gun toward him. Bouncing back up behind him, Jon twirled his blade and body back around, slashing his blade horizontally across the back of the soldiers legs, aiming to disable him. Such an attempt was only successful, the Trooper falling to his knees as the sword caught him at a spot of weakness.
Staring down at downed foe, Jon lifted his blade back up. As the Stormtrooper's head was bowed, it left a slight opening in his armour defences. Jon twisted his blade around, so the tip of his sword was pointing down toward the Stormtroopers back. He sent Longclaw plunging down through the mans spine with a grunt. The soldier let out no screams of pain or cries for clemency; only raspy gurgles and chokes. Blood oozed and and poured from the spot where Jon's sword has mashed through the skin. Jon brought his foot up, pressing it against the newly-made corpses back, pulling a thrice bloodied sword free from his back.
Jon took a moment to pause and discern what was around him. Snow was teetering more toward the edge of the battlefield; most of the men had barely recognised his nearby presence, and were still firing all they had against one another. The battlefield was much more divided entering the centre, no man daring to be courageous enough to dash out onto the open field and into the hottest line of fire.
Something else caught Jon's eye the most, though. A raven haired boy dressed in blue was making a steady travel over toward him. He glared over at Snow with dilated pupils and an almost hungry and wolfish glare. Jon squinted, taking a few steps back as he readied himself on the defensive front once more. The distant boy's hand began to pulsate and spark with a sort of electronic energy. The blast pulsated with his palm, growing larger, and larger...
As Snow braced himself for some kind of impact, something unexpected happened.
The boy turned.
He cast his eyes over toward another Stormtrooper. The attire and armour of this one was much different than the rest's he'd seen so far, though. Badges of honour and prestige littered his chest, signifying his status as a veteran or commander of sorts. He stood a fair distance away from the super-charged youth, but the boy in blue glared at him as though he could see right through him. Spinning on his heel, the young ninja began his charge on his target...
Jon Snow bit down hard on his lip, progressing deeper into the thick of the fight with quick-paced, hasty steps.
![[Image: tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png]](http://68.media.tumblr.com/bceb0feb3876c0a578aebfda0bc7b306/tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png)