08-06-2015, 04:39 PM
Chaos and confusion. Only moments after Tartaros had made his quip, the area had begun to raise hell with the stormtroopers opening fire. Even if Triest wanted to finish this man off, which he didn't really have the time to think about, the bolts of light and accompanying explosions would have taken them both out. Triest leaped off from his quarry, abandoning him to his fate, and started sprinting down the hallways. Well, as best that he could. The adrenaline couldn't blot out all the injuries that he had taken, and thinking anything rational was beginning to become a chore.
"Have to... find... a way out!" Triest thought to himself, grimacing, before remembering a key detail.
Oh right, he had something called a cloaking device. That might be useful. Just a little bit.
Triest quickly activated the cloaking device, before slowing his pace, allowing himself to catch his breath. He gave a quick survey of the area. From all the combat, missed shots, and flamethrowers, this area was a complete disaster. Triest could hear the manager of the museum now, complaining on what a travesty his pride and joy had become, and that he wanted all of those responsible arrested. Arrested... right... somehow Triest didn't think their informant did much to slow the guards, or keep their names clear, considering they were being shot at. Luckily though, it seemed as if the guards were terrible at keeping the lower sections of the city cleaned, considering Erik managed to enlist a few thugs from down below. Speaking of which, where were those hooligans? They probably absconded early in the fight, or were currently being filled with blaster fire. They were worthless anyways, so who cares? Actually now that he thought about it, they probably just stole a few things along with just retreating.
The escape was going just fine. Triest was invisible, and practically waltzing between enemy formations, well, more like hobbling. The marauders were running off as well, although Triest wasn't sure about the artifact. On second thought, to hell with that thing. He almost got killed over that, and for what? Was there even a payment? Or was he just doing this out of the good of his heart? He did feel... suspiciously stronger however. Like something had begun to blossom inside of him, but wasn't quite in bloom yet. He would have to reflect on that later, but right now wasn't the time.
And then Triest made a particularly... short-sighted error. There was a blockade of soldiers in front of him. No problem, just climb the walls. He used a nearby stand for an exhibit as a boost to start climbing, but... he knocked over the priceless antique in the process. The pot tumbled over, and shattered, piercing the veil of gunfire that had consumed the building.
Triest froze. So did the squad.
Someone yelled something, then Triest yelled something, and now he was running. Well more like tumbling through the air as an explosion tore him from his perch and into the wide room ahead. Just as quickly as the situation went down, so did Triest.
He had a strange dream. One that came and went with blazing speed, and left him sick in the head. He was just exploring this old abandoned ruin, found an inter-dimensional portal, before being slung to a whole new world, where he met with a dragon and a psionic before being shot at over some artifact. Oh... wait...
Well that was on hell of a first day in the Omniverse. Triest hoped to never experience that again. Somehow, he doubted that would happen.
Triest felt himself on a cold floor, his vision blurry but slowly coming back to him. He felt pain all around him, but most importantly, his lack of two of his limbs. Well, that was the first, and hopefully last time he would ever experience dismemberment. He gazed around the spinning, nauseating room, his vision finally focusing on a familiar face. Axorn!
"Is this prison? Where are we?" Triest rubbed his head, looking around, "Today just keeps getting better and better."
"Have to... find... a way out!" Triest thought to himself, grimacing, before remembering a key detail.
Oh right, he had something called a cloaking device. That might be useful. Just a little bit.
Triest quickly activated the cloaking device, before slowing his pace, allowing himself to catch his breath. He gave a quick survey of the area. From all the combat, missed shots, and flamethrowers, this area was a complete disaster. Triest could hear the manager of the museum now, complaining on what a travesty his pride and joy had become, and that he wanted all of those responsible arrested. Arrested... right... somehow Triest didn't think their informant did much to slow the guards, or keep their names clear, considering they were being shot at. Luckily though, it seemed as if the guards were terrible at keeping the lower sections of the city cleaned, considering Erik managed to enlist a few thugs from down below. Speaking of which, where were those hooligans? They probably absconded early in the fight, or were currently being filled with blaster fire. They were worthless anyways, so who cares? Actually now that he thought about it, they probably just stole a few things along with just retreating.
The escape was going just fine. Triest was invisible, and practically waltzing between enemy formations, well, more like hobbling. The marauders were running off as well, although Triest wasn't sure about the artifact. On second thought, to hell with that thing. He almost got killed over that, and for what? Was there even a payment? Or was he just doing this out of the good of his heart? He did feel... suspiciously stronger however. Like something had begun to blossom inside of him, but wasn't quite in bloom yet. He would have to reflect on that later, but right now wasn't the time.
And then Triest made a particularly... short-sighted error. There was a blockade of soldiers in front of him. No problem, just climb the walls. He used a nearby stand for an exhibit as a boost to start climbing, but... he knocked over the priceless antique in the process. The pot tumbled over, and shattered, piercing the veil of gunfire that had consumed the building.
Triest froze. So did the squad.
Someone yelled something, then Triest yelled something, and now he was running. Well more like tumbling through the air as an explosion tore him from his perch and into the wide room ahead. Just as quickly as the situation went down, so did Triest.
He had a strange dream. One that came and went with blazing speed, and left him sick in the head. He was just exploring this old abandoned ruin, found an inter-dimensional portal, before being slung to a whole new world, where he met with a dragon and a psionic before being shot at over some artifact. Oh... wait...
Well that was on hell of a first day in the Omniverse. Triest hoped to never experience that again. Somehow, he doubted that would happen.
Triest felt himself on a cold floor, his vision blurry but slowly coming back to him. He felt pain all around him, but most importantly, his lack of two of his limbs. Well, that was the first, and hopefully last time he would ever experience dismemberment. He gazed around the spinning, nauseating room, his vision finally focusing on a familiar face. Axorn!
"Is this prison? Where are we?" Triest rubbed his head, looking around, "Today just keeps getting better and better."
Quote:[spoiler]Looks like Erik escaped to the Nexus on the previous thread. We'll be waiting a long time if we wait for him. Like, eternally maybe.[/spoiler]