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Katheeri


Zaphyr Stone

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Upon receiving the blow, Sandor yelped in pain and staggered back, coughing. He most certainly did not expect such a powerful blow from the Wizard. 

Edited by Arminius H O Fiddywinks
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and there was the opening. He shifted once more, arms lowered, right leg forward.he slid in  a brutal one-two- body blow to the center of the chest and a push kick would send him skidding back.. or knock him onto his back.

 

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The latest blows Sandor sustained did not just throw him back physically, but mentally as well. Almost instantly, he was sent back a few years, and Renard somehow morphed into his uncle, who cussed and yelled at Sandor as he crouched on the floor coughing.

"You pathetic piece of trash!" yelled his uncle in Magyar. "You just had to come along and ruin my oh so beautiful life for me, eh? I could've gotten a job, a house, met a woman, had children of my own, but NO! You were born and you pissed on my parade! Well, how does this feel?!"

Sandor threw himself into an uncontrollable rage as he tackled Renard to the ground, repeatedly punching him in the face. He started to cry as the punches were rhythmically landing on Renard. Gradually, his attacks grew weaker and weaker as he started to weep uncontrollably, and stumbled off of Renard. Sandor withdrew into a corner of the frosty room, sobbing in a fetal position.

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Once poor Renard's faculties returned, he saw the weeping Sandor in the corner


"ah... Sykre..." ( An axian word better off not being translated)

He sighed as he filled his hands with energy, putting them over his battered face and noting the injuries as they healed up, annoyed by the stinging.

Fractured cheek bone, fat lip, black eye... and a chipped back tooth all patched up, but the not fully, the damage was still apparent and would require another spell in about six hours. He didn't heal wounds fully because it left scars to do so.

He pulled himself to his feet as the room began to thaw. the ice seeming to sublimate directly to vapor. He slowly trudged over to sandor.. If this had been some random thug, Ren would have beat him bloody out of spite.. but he knew an incomplete person when he saw one. Since he -was- one himself, and only broken people deal beatings like that during mere sparring. He said nothing, not that he could.  He merely sat down and waited for the fit to pass.

Edited by Renardfrost
fixing word flow
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Sandor sat in his own dark little corner of the Universe, sobbing, for what seemed to be hours, but really was only a minute, before he snapped back to reality. He glanced around the defrosting room, clearing his throat. He sniffed, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Sandor stood back up and straightened out his shirt. He rubbed his ears, and wiped his face with his hands.

"I blacked out, didn't I?" Sandor asked Renard. "I thought I could handle it: the beating. You know, when you're afflicted with what I have, the best thing to do, in my opinion, is to face things that remind you of that dark place and say 'No more'. I guess it didn't work today. I'm sorry, Wizard." He sighed. "Well, at least I know not to tussle with you," Sandor said, pointing at Renard sitting on the floor. "I hunger. Do you hunger?"

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He smiled genuinely. " Starving.... Let's hit the mess.  Also, Just call me Ren, not Wizard, Mage, Hero.. or any of that. " My gifts do not define who I am.. My Soul and choices do."

He stood up and reached his hand out to him. "C'mon... let's go."

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Sandor stared at Renard's hand awkwardly for a few moments before looking up at his face. "Ren..." he began. Suddenly, Sandor leaped towards Renard, hugging him, swaying both he and Renard back and forth. "I f--king love you," said Sandor. "I f--king love you, Ren," Sandor then looked at Renard's face once again. "Let's eat, Ren, let's eat." Sandor then disengaged his hug, and walked towards the door. Opening it, he peeked his head out. Looking left and right and spotting no one, Sandor casually walked out into the hallway.

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Renard dusted himself off and was quick to follow suit, walking beside him, rubbing the back of his head.

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"Right, so the mess hall is this way," Sandor said as he flawlessly glided his way towards the door of the mess hall. He opened the door to a large room with many steel tables for eating. The steel stools were attached to the tables, and the tables themselves were welded onto the floor. He walked his way over to the cabinets to find something to cook up for himself and his newest friend.

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  • 1 month later...

Renard thought a bit as he surveyed the mess hall. he mostly noticed how... empty it was in relationto its current occupancy.

 

"Uh, Sandor? A thought occurs. why such a large ship with such a tiny crew? I don't mean to imply you guys cant run it, but the ship seems a tad large for a small crew of treasure hunters

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Sandor looked back to Renard, and turned around. He leaned against the long-running counter, which stretched across the room. He crossed his arms. "We had a crew..." he said, making a small gesture with his tucked-in right hand and shoulders. "They rebelled against us, though, after the first job we had. It was participating in the 2nd Zonessian Civil War, when we were hired to help overthrow the ZPR. We were paid, but the crew got greedy. They tried to take us out. They failed." Sandor fell silent.

"I guess you know what happened to them, then..." Sandor said after a few moments of silence. "28 people. We shot them all like nothing."

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  • 3 weeks later...

"And it never occurredto hire more?" he stated plainly, watching sandor cook

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Sandor sprayed a pan on one of the stoves with cooking oil, and took a healthy portion of steak and neatly placed it onto the readied stove. He turned the stove on high, and the steak began to sizzle. The bubbling oil burst forth and the radiating heat slowly dissipated throughout the cafeteria.

"Well, we did sort of higher more people..." claimed Sandor, adjusting the steak's position on the pan. "Two people: Jacob Massamo and Roy Carlisle. They're good guys, to my knowledge." He turned to Renard. "What would you like to eat?"

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  • 4 weeks later...

Zefran tucked his wings in as he stepped into the lift. So far everyone was surprisingly nice. Antoine could suck it, acting like the whole world was out to get them.

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"hmm.... just about anythinghing would work, really." he stated simply, exhaling as he ook a seat

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Sandor slightly smiled, slapping down another raw steak onto the superheated pan. It sizzled and smoked as it was cooked to perfection. "How would you like your steak, Renard?" asked Sandor.

 

Korben followed Zefran inside the lift, and he pressed a button to close the doors. He then selected another option on the interface. It was the deck where the cargo bay was located. He cracked his neck, and sighed in satisfaction.

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Medium Rare." he said loudly, to makesure his voice carried to the kitchen. this wasn't his first time in a ship and probably not the last.

He sighed as he settled into his seat. rubbing his still sore face.

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Sandor bopped his head up and down to a tune inaudible to all except himself as he cooked the two slabs of meat to perfection. The aroma of the sizzling meats slowly diffused throughout the large cafeteria. After several minutes of cooking, Sandor took out two plates, and put down the hot, medium rare steaks onto them. He turned off the stove, grabbed the plates, and headed for the table where Renard was sitting. He set down one of the plates in front of Renard.

"One steak, medium rare," Sandor said. He put down the plate containing his share, and went to get two knives and two forks. He reappeared with the two pairs of utensils, and sat down, placing one pair next to Renard's plate. "Let's eat!"

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  • 2 weeks later...

Zefran waited patiently, watching the level indicator as it cycled through the floor numbers and finally settle on a level. As the doors opened to the hall leading to the cargo bay, he stepped out, waiting for Korben.

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Korben stepped out of the lift and into the corridor. The doors closed behind him. He gestured his head in a way that indicated that the two of them should go forward.

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Following his lead, Zefran walked through the large hangar doors and into the even larger space beyond. "Woah." He looked around, unable to stop smiling at the sheer mass of space, "This place is huge!"

"Well, good morning, Sunshine." Antoine teased, eyes glittering in amusement, "Have a nice nap? Glad to see you up and at 'em." He stopped to wipe the oil off his hands with a rag.

"For future reference, let's find another way to get off the planet next time." Zefran laughed.

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Korben crossed his arms, and found a work table to lean his hip against in waiting. He silently observed Zefran and Antoine. He noticed that their relationship was a unique one. Antoine, a rough character, is a sort of father figure to Zefran.

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Giving the two that entered the mess hall an acknowledging glance, Shepherd considered perhaps striking up a conversation, if only to get a better feel for the one she had mentally applied "Sandor's lackey". Another time, The clone shook her head and got up, she still had to drop off Zefran's tool and make a detour to the bridge.

With that goal in mind, the vixen turned and made her way through the hall as she took a guess as to the location of Zefran. Perhaps she could leave it in the paws of Antoine, who, last she'd checked, was in the hanger.

So, Shepherd began to navigate her way through the halls towards the hanger.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Bohdan's limp body laid lazily on his command chair, his weighted eyelids pulled over his eyes. He slumbered in his chair, his chest rising up and down as oxygen entered and exited his lungs. He was turned slightly to the right, and the side of his head was laying on the chair's headrest. Elizabeth was also fast asleep, with her jacket draped over her like a blanket. She was snoring rather quietly. Roy and Jacob, however, were fueled by coffee, and refused to surrender to the forces of Dream Land.

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  • 2 months later...

" And that's why i don't really go to tribal planets anymore." ren stated flatly, crossing his arms.
 

" I use one simple parlor trick.. not even anything combat related or benificial. and they think i'm some sort of god."
 

He sighed heavily, as he took a hefty bite out of his steak.

"then they try to sacrifice me in some way to 'return me to where i came from' or some rot."

 

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