Mercy - for funk-yeah

(A response to funk-yeah’s totally awesome sauce prompt between my sickly soldier and her helmeted hunter. Not contained herein is an explanation on how he fits the fucking lekku into the goddamn helmet.)

The concept of Belsavis had not sat easily in Lt. Deleuze Ulgo’s stomach. From the moment he and his squad had been granted clearance, to actual touch-down on the planet to start containing the hell that was breaking loose, there had been an unpleasant churning deep in his gut. He understood the need for prisons, he understood the value of the Rakata technology and proper confinement…but his intuition had served him well before, and it was doing so again. Some of the experiments they had uncovered, some of the creatures contained within, the treatment of the prisoners who had been born in captivity and not given any degree of freedom….

Those were not signs of his Republic. Those were not actions of a government he’d left home to serve. But they served a purpose - they reminded him that there were always reasons to do the right thing…no matter what. So while on assignment, he shut down said experiments. He worked to see that fairness and proper ideals were reinstated. He made sure his squadmates did not run into anyone they knew…

And then he was alone.

Patrol. Everyone had their assignments. Rhomm was making sure wardroids were targeting the proper enemies. Loewe was gunning down Esh-ka en masse with a faintly sociopathic zeal. Fin was sealing Vaults explosively, and Nalavar was…well, Nalavar was making gang leaders vanish.

So he was alone. Up and along the winding roads of the prison world, the central relay for all of his troops’ orders while on the hunt for the Imperials’ ground zero. 


He’d been in some worse situations. It was kinda hard to name ‘em, but he’d been in worse. There was that time with the wardroid, and just about any time Janila got an idea in that pretty little head of hers. So he wasn’t gonna panic. There wasn’t time to panic - there were just too many damn Esh-ka and not enough ammo and no backup yet. Every time one of the damn goat-Force-things went down, there was another damn one poppin’ out to take it’s place. 

His armor was scorched in some places, and his depleted energy and fuel cells were making a tidy little pile at his feet - too many to be comfortable. Regiment boys’re on their way. He just had to hang in there a little-SONOFABITCH THAT HURT. Okay. he was down an arm. The feeling would return soon enough…hopefully. Just meant he had to double………..there was no point in lyin’. This was bad. No fuel, no more ammo…he supposed maybe he could beat a few to death with his good arm, maybe crack a few skulls with his helmet. No point in bein’ a defeatist…Just gotta know what’s what and-

-watch as a kriffing speeder comes outta nowhere and drives right into the big one?


The sound of blaster fire was entirely too common for Deleuze’s likings. Rioting should have been calming down as the prisoners are put back into confinement - but there was that nagging in his gut. THat instinct that said to investigate, to check in, to help. It was his duty - to help whoever, wherever he could. That was what it meant to be a soldier for the Republic. That was what an Ulgo was supposed to do. If it was prisoners, he’d quell the dispute. If it was friendly troops, he would assist - but it wasn’t.

It was an Imperial soldier - one with an impressive number of Esh-ka corpses at his feet. They were…..discomforting aliens. Monstrous in their attitudes and capabilities. Terrifying…and the fact that the man fighting for his life was still alive was nothing short of amazing. But the man with his blaster pistol was the enemy. If Deleuze had just kept driving, his superiors wouldn’t bat an eye. “The only good Imperial is a dead one” some would say. 

The decision was easy.

The frail man in too-much armor revved the engine of his speeder and swung it around to plow into the war-chieftan-thing of the Esh-ka, leaping off in the process. He relaxed, let his armor do the work as he rolled into a kneeling position, rifle in hand, to start firing quite quickly into the crowd. 

No words had to be exchanged - two soldiers covering two fronts. Deleuze took the brunt of it, keeping mobile and making the most out of a fully charged blaster. The Esh-ka quickly decided that one aberration was worth killing - two were not. They were routed. 

It had taken seconds. Only seconds - one armored figure in white, another in black, working and shooting in tandem. But time is a funny thing in the thick of combat. It slows and speeds up depending on who is involved and why…but the why wasn’t in question. It was the right thing to do - that knot in his stomach indicated as much. 

And then it was quiet. He stood, panting a bit, looking over the destruction he had wrought. He wasn’t happy about it, or particularly proud…but the right thing was the right thing, and this was most definitely that. The pale man looked to the helmeted one, standing straight and rolling his narrow shoulders, blaster resting comfortably in his hands. He was impressed - holding out that long against a horde that ravenous…it was admirable.

“Are you alright?”

The helmeted Imperial didn’t speak. Not at first. He just stood there, evaluating the Republic soldier who had just saved his ass, and who had him dead to rights with one squeeze of a trigger. 

That is, until the cavalry arrived from all directions. The Regiment, just a few seconds too late - but just in time to have enough blasters trained on a man to make him drop his rifle to the ground and slowly raise his hands above his head in surrender.

But he was smiling. 

He’d done the right thing.

Azil'mort's Asylum: The Operation (Faux Ops Run)

So this prompt came up on of the Ebon Hawk enjin forums and I tackled it with gusto. It is an amazing lump of text so proceed at your own risk. Done with help from gunsandsyringes, ascottlegacy and damarlegacy.

For those who frequent Ebon-Hawk.net, this can be found in all it’s color coded glory here.

(art by Sak)
Azil'mort’s Asylum Operation
Location: Dromund Kaas Jungle

Once the powerbase of the powerful Darth Koma, the compound
has since been taken over by the apprentice that murdered
her and while great things for the Empire might come from the
large structure, the horrors are outnumbering the benefits…

The Asylum is a multi-story sprawling complex filled with your typical Imperial trash mobs. Beware the occasional patrolling Guardsman. In the larger groups be sure to take out the Lab Techs first as they are healer types that will endlessly keep the Guardsmen regenerating as you fight. CC Widow Droids if possible as they have an attack that will stun multiple members of the party once engaged.

Each section of the Sith Compound has differently themed mobs as well.

Throughout the fight you will hear Laz'ab screaming and cackling over the loudspeakers in increasing anger and panic as the party moves through the base and defeats his people.

Keep reading