Log:Clan Kora: Things Done for Love

A thirty year search comes to a climatic end.

OOC Date: August 12, 2021
Location: Chad
Participants: Clan Kora, Valeska Jaivon, Hahtavi, Hadrix Kora, Zelo Parrai, Kirioth Kora, Hera Ryder NPC, Sana Ryder NPC, Fae Renta NPC, Sumi Kora

Chad is a muggy world, consisting of a lot.. /a lot/ of water. The day's sun is at noon position raining down an unbearable heat that's been coupled with the humidity of the sea. On a godforsaken island whose borders consist entirely of tall mountains, sits a lone fortress and arena run by the worst sort. Mandalorians.

For thirty years, Sumi Kora, formerly known as Sumi Ryder, has been trying to track down the elusive clan and its presumed leader, Sana; a century old warrior responsible for raising and training Sumi. That search has finally come to an end.

Sumi left orders for Hadrix to WAIT for her signal. She went in alone. What awaited her in the fortress was a ceremony of justice where Sana was granted a trial by combat to answer for her crimes and failure as their Alor. The new Alor presided over the trial and sat at the highest suite in the arena so she could look down on the woman who had mothered her, trained her, and seemingly betrayed her. Hera, the new Alor, addressed the crowd of Mandalorians bearing the Ryder sigil.

<"BLOOD KIN.. BEFORE US A RESPONSIBILITY FOR JUSTICE AWAITS. SANA OF RYDER STANDS ACCUSED OF NEGLIGENCE AND INCOMPETANCE. FOR TOO LONG WE HAVE CHASED THE SHADOWS OF THIS GALAXY TRYING TO PIERCE ITS ARMOR. WHAT HAS IT YIELDED US? DEATH. DESTRUCTION. PAIN.-- NO MORE! I HAVE STRIPPED HER BARE OF ALL RESPONSIBILITY SAVE ONE; IT IS THE ONE WE ALL SEEK.. THE CHANCE TO DIE A GLORIOUS DEATH.">

The crowd of Mandalorians erupt with cheer and BOOOs as Sana Ryder is brought out to the center of the arena sands and left in nothing but armor and her chosen weapon.

<"BY RITE, SANA IS GIVEN CHANCE TO PLEA BEFORE US; BEG FOR MERCY OR CALL YOUR CHAMPIONS TO ARMS. WHAT COMES NEXT IS THE CHOICE OF THE GODS. WE LIVE AND DIE BY THEIR WHIM, AND THUS.. WE ALWAYS CHOOSE BATTLE! NOTHING SHORT OF A GLORIOUS DEATH IS ALL WE CAN HOPE FOR, AND IT IS WHAT WE PROMISED FOR YOU, SANA. A FITTING END. SPEAK, SANA, AND BE HEARD A FINAL TIME. CONVINCE WHO MAY BE SWAYED BY YOUR WORDS, TO JOIN YOU IN WHAT COULD BE.. YOUR FINAL FIGHT."> Hera crossed her arms and waited.

Sana's voice cuts over. <"I will save my breath for the battle to come. Send your beasts, send your demons, send what you will. I will fight. Alone if I must.">

<"NOT ALONE.."> Answers Sumi, who takes to the air in that moment and lands beside the helmeted blonde haired Sana Ryder. Everyone, including Sana, is stunned. <"I swore an oath to you when you served as Alor. That I will fight by your side.. win or lose; that we shall never die alone.">

<"Sumi?"> Sana asks, her voice cracking.

<"WHO IS THIS WARRIOR?"> Hera calls out angrily. <"I am Sumi Ryder of Clan Kora.. "> Sumi calls back, presenting her wrist and activating the signal beacon. <"Clan Kora will answer Sana's call."> Sumi announces. The stadium begins to laugh, as does Hera. <"Did your clan forget to follow you, Sumi of Kora?">

Sumi steps closer to stand beside Sana, unhooking an electrum hilt from her side and activating its violet blade. The appearance of a lightsaber hushes the crowd. <"I have all that I need."> Sumi answers. Sana smirks and draws both beskad blades from her back, twisting them into position and taking her place by Sumi's side, their shoulders touching. <"No more talking child. Release your horrors and get on with it.'> Sana beckoned.

Hera answered, <"SO BE IT!"> And gave the motion.

This live stream recording was broadcasted from Sumi's helmet to the waiting personnel hold of the ship currently hitting supersonic speed to get into the primary drop zone. Lady Fae's voice cuts over the intercom to announce that, <"We are thirty seconds from the drop point, Al'Verde.">

Everyone is on the ship, the holo from Sumi's broadcasting helmet giving some clue to the horrors that await them on the ground. The ramp opens, air rushes in, and the light inside turns red, blinking. All eyes are on Hadrix to give the command to go in after Sumi and Sana.

<<"Copy Fae.>> Hadrix nods and braces when the ramp drops, swinging up the tremendous RB-407 on its sling and hooking it to his chest webbing before he gives a motion towards the opening.

<<"Everyone out. Be ready to catch others. We're hitting the ground and opening fire. Encircle Sumi and Sana. Secure the area - exfiltrating them is priority. Extreme prejudice.">> walking towards the edge of the ramp, <<"Deploy.">> the last growled out, audible but the old animal passion, the excitement for combat bubbling up and he is visibly trembling from the adrenaline dump.

Never one to send others first, leading from the front, the big man steps off and angles himself to begin falling head first. Arms tight, palms flat to his sides and toes pointed to start picking up speed.

<<"Sumi'alor. We're en route.">>

This was always the best part.

On the dropship, Valeska watches the broadcast with one part of her brain while the other is getting her DL ready, checking the charges left on the powercell and warming up the barrel. As the scene continues to play out, she double-checks that her jetpack is securely to her back; her expression scrunching up as the new Alor addresses the crowd. "Who's the whelp, I wonder. Sounds like she could use a good punch in the teeth."

No matter. Thirty seconds to showtime and Valeska steps up closer to Hadrix and the others. Whatever is waiting for them down there is going to meet a frontal assault. Valeska's helmet gives a brief nod. <"Understood."> She does so enjoy extreme prejudice. She is a few seconds behind Hadrix, nosediving at an angel into the open skies.

Zelo Parrai, Tal'Aliit of Clan Kora, stands ready, holding to a grip near the ramp as it lowers. The Nautolan in the inherited beskar of gleaming blue watched the signal feed from Sumi, enough to know the odds even better than they may have been explained. Tight spot, enemies all around, unlikely to be friendly. Zelo's visor looks down to the ground speeding away below, his custom helm holding his tendrils in a steel-woven basket and covered by durasteel plates in the back. His right hand reaches behind to brush one uncovered fingerpad over the E-11 in a calming ritual that ends with it unslung in a smooth arc and held tight in the shootist's hand. There will likely be no overwatch position, and in the thick of it, the maneuverability of the carbine overbalances the decreased accuracy, and pays back with increased rate of fire.

This is not the sort of jump one makes every day, and it's not the sort Zelo's yet to make in his lifetime. Much less confident in his rocket-skills than the others, Zelo brushes a finger over the gravity belt on his armor, making certain he can find the toggle if he needs it. Arms spread and a visual inspection is made of the wings on his suit. "Just like swimming," he reassures himself. But it's orders on the clan's comms, and Zelo nods. Nothing to add, the Nautolan only keys up long enough for, <<"Understood.">> And it is... Understood. Zelo releases his grip and trots down the ramp, leaping into more of a dive like he would into the ocean. Then he straightens, body turning into a lance as it cuts through the air, ever downward.

The Alabastrine Mandalorian is also on board. Roth's not talkative and never really has been. So nothing is out of the ordinary for the older woman. She listens to Hadrix as he goes over orders and what they are to do. There is a nod of her helmed head to him and then waits her turn on the jumping out of the ship bit. It's an integral part of getting to the objective that they had and she didn't want to muck it up.

High altitude, low opening. Aye, he's trained for it but only fairly recently - and using jetpacks rather than parachutes. Hahtavi stands silent, maglock boots engaged, a hand on a grip strap as he waits and listens. Whatever his thoughts he's kept them to himself, a little more reserved since the op a while back where he was shot and dropped by a fellow Mandalorian.

When Lady Fay's voice comes over their coms, Haht disengages his maglocks on his boots. His rifle is already on the tactical sling, rigged against the front of his body and snugged down against the webbing, ready to be ripped free and put to use on the descent. <<"Extreme prejudice, aye.">> he acknowledges.

The red flashing light is their cue. Orders issued should any of their jetpacks fail, to watch out for each other. That low 'opening' part might not allow much time for saving each other's shebs. It is understood nontheless. Then Hadrix steps off to get their deployment under way with style.

Zelo, then Roth next, then Hahtavi gives Valeska a quick glance in his 360 HUD view before he too steps off. No jumping, just an easy step off and natural fall, tipping over to start his dive head first. Keep calm, focused, frosty.

Sure is a heck of a view!

As each Mando takes to the air, they face some time of bliss; a wonderous view of the world below as wind whips by them and their velocity makes their armor sing. Below, they can see the mountains, the arena, and before long, the dots that constitute the opposition the pair face below at the sport of a clan that's seated in the 'stands' watching.

A good number of humanoids rushed the pair (Sana and Sumi) below. There seemed to be roughly 20, though subtracting four from that accounted for the kills both women accrued when they charged right at the gathering of fugitives fighting for their freedom. Sumi and Sana moved in tandem, twisting and spinning, before one ran up to engage another while the other anchored to defend. They didn't speak, they just moved. The moment Sana was struck, Sumi plowed into the one responsible to put space between Sana and further harm.

The Mandalorians coming in from above need only activate the landing sequence. (NO ROLL NEEDED). They come to a hover and transition to the sand, landing amidst the chaos to join Sumi and Sana, who are presently, surrounded by sixteen (16) humanoid fugitives each vying for a kill to earn their freedom from the merciless Ryder Clan.

As the ground approaches numbers begin counting down on the HUD display within his helmet. Teeth bared behind the visor at the ten meter mark there is a tone that signals his belt engaging. His fall slows, until a chinning of a tab disengages the system a good five meters from the ground. Landing hard, knees bending to a hunker before he rises, the repeater cannon swung off his webbing before impact brought up, with a brace saddling his hip and a top mounted foregrip clenched in his fist.

<<"Opening fire.">> the chugging of the cannon in hand shaking Hadrix's entire body shaking like he was in the grip of a wampa while blaster bolts the size of wookiee fists are raked across the field towards those attacking Sumi and Sana. One of the poor sots lifted by the kinetic impact before the heat melts flesh and flash boils moisture. The one behind has enough time to register they're in a red mist before their left shoulder is blasted off of their body, arm going one way and the body being chewed apart the other.

<<"Perimeter around defense targets.">>

There really is no time to appreciate the view. Well, that is incorrect. There is plenty of time to appreciate the view, but Valeska isn't interested in doing so. What she is interested in are the numerous little dots growing larger and large by the millisecond: their bodies lighting up her HUD like a holiday tree. Following Hadrix's lead, Valeska ignites her jetpack and before her feet are both on the ground, her blaster is saying hello.

It is like a well-rehersed dance for her now. Three shots rapid-fire: Valeska's signature move. Two of them find purchase and the other is there to annoy. Taking positin in the circle around Sana and Sumi, Valeska is just one of many Kora who begin to mow down the targets around them.

Zelo's helm cuts most of the sound down, but the suit isn't perfectly sealed and there's still a sensation of wind screaming and tearing at the blue beskar, even with the slim line of his dive. The ground swelling up to greet him, Zelo performs minor corrections to orient himself in a steady approach so he can receive as much information as possible. The glowing purple saber would make it easy to spot Sumi even without the IFF assist. The other one in the middle of the circle with her must, then, be who they've come for. Shifting a little, Zelo pops the wings of his suit to shift his direction slightly, before closing the apparatus again to continue his descent. At the last moment, he throws himself backward, catching the air to his body like a slap before he can maneuver himself toes-down. Hitting the controls for his jetpack, the landing sequence brings the Nautolan in for a landing directly on top of one of the fugitives.

A shot straight down goes slightly amiss as the blasts of fire and jetpacks gives his target a chance to dodge. Landing lightly and killing the jetpack, Zelo turns his back to the center of the ring, backing in as he takes quick aim and dispenses with the unfortunate party. There isn't any joy in this motion, only a need to stop any threat to his people. With one figure down, a blaster bolt to the neck ensuring he'll never get up, Zelo gets into formation. <<"Copy that.">>

Roth is quick to get to work with the stabbing. She lands, taking a strike at the nearest enemy that she can find and the first slice goes awry, which given the momentum isn't surprising. The second slice from the dagger and then the swing from the sword hit true though and leaves the man dead at her feet.

Down, down like an arrow Hahtavi falls, his body poised just like the others as they lance down with arms tight to their sides. Until it's time to reverse and fire their rocketpacks. Behind the others, Hahtavi waits to make sure everyone else's jets fire timely - and his own does as well. Immediately there is hard thrust, a jerk of his body and as they come in for their landings, Hahtavi's gloved hands rip his rifle from his tactical webbing.

Even before his armored boots touch down his Galaar is up and lining up shots in his reticle, red bolts of light leaping forth to seek his chosen targets as marked on his HUD for others to see, even as they have marked their own.

Haht's boots strike the arena floor, his knees bending to absorb the impact and then he's running to form the protective circle as ordered, all their backs turned to their fellow defenders and facing outwards to embrace the onslaught.

<<"Two down.">> Their target rich environment is dropping bodies left and right. Putting on a show for the spectators.

Sumi impales the man responsible for harming HER Sana, and she casts the body aside, SCREAMING with rage to chase another and missing as they duck, then scramble away. Sana is not showing the emotion Sumi is; she moves meticulously forward with light steps and twists her blades to intercept her opponents. Two are beheaded in a complex strike, and as the warrior returns to a stance for defense, she impales a third with both blades when they charge to her. Sana splits them open when she yanks the weapons free, then chuckles as she catches sight of the Mandos coming to join them.

<"A glorious day for fighting!"> Sana calls out, taking advantage of the constant fire of the cannon and the Mandalorian perimeter formed around them. She turns to look for Sumi and finds the blue armored warrior charging into the crowd with reckless abandon. <"Hahaha.. some things never change! WAIT FOR ME!"> And there goes Sana, eager to join Sumi in the blood bath.

Hera, up in the suite watching this battle rises up on her feet and motions for the next phase. <"THE ROUND OF HOD HARAN IS OVER. SO BEGINS THE TRIAL OF ARASUUM! SEND IN THE BLOODY ACKLAYS!">

"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Screams an Acklay, the largest of the brood, as the fourteen foot monster stabs its way onto the sand followed by six others, making a total of seven (7) Acklays. Their enraged cries answer their leader. Five (5) fugitives try to harm the Mandalorians, but they're lambs to the slaughter, and they know it.

<<"Kriff.">> it's what he says, but with the heavy shaking of full auto-fire it comes out as a warbling sound when Hadrix turn towards the oncoming insectoids, chewing up sand and watching the heavy blaster bolts bounce off of the thick hide of the monstrosities. It's a wonder any strikes when one of the rocket darts slams into the side of an Acklay and blasts a chunk out of a massive flank.

<<"Roth, think you can give them some stab pointers?">> again he sounds like he's sitting on top of an off-kilter washing unit and the Al'Verde Kora begins blink marking on the HUD, sending out positioning information because... well lets be honest. Talking is hard right now.

Hey! This is going pretty good!

Valeska couldn't stop the thought from passing through her mind and immediately she is regretting it. As if on cue, the gnarling screeeeeeeeeech of over half a dozen monstrosities made of teeth and legs come skulking out on their awful tippy-toes.

<"What in the--- why are there so many?!"> In the brief time they have before the monsters on upon them, Valeska looks over towards Sana just as the woman is running headlong into the fray. <"Just how pissed off at you /are/ they?!"> And who the hell is this woman that this clan had seven of the bastards waiting in the wings in case twenty fighters couldn't take her out?!

There's little doubt in her mind which of the threats need her direct attention. Foregoing what little remains of the squishier targets, Valeska draws her ire upon the first Acklay. Two solid rounds into a disgusting kneecap -- and it has so many -- brings the creature toppling to the ground but alive. A twist of her waist and she fires at the next one charging her, giving it a literal mouthful of blaster bolt.

<"Softened up two of them for ya!"> To anyone who wants 'em.

Roth, who is generally very quiet takes the time to look at the Acklay's that are released. Their screams are returned, the Arkanian raising her vibroblade as she runs towards them. Because how else do you fight these things? Apparently with loud noises and sharp blades.

Zelo stands firm, now that the situation is under control. It's just a few more opponents and then it's all over.

'SEND IN THE BLOODY ACKLAYS!'

Great. Of course there's a second wave. "Well," says the Nautolan in the gleaming blue beskar, his vocoder not passing word along to those around him. It's not that the roar sets him on edge, but the fact that he is looking up at enemies instead of eye-level. Big things almost always mean trouble. Big mechs. Krayt dragons. Trouble.

The Nautolan's attention leaves the man-shaped enemies out of his calculations as he lines up a shot, squaring and pulling aim toward one of the beasts closest to his side, at least by his orientation. The shot is good, striking the beast in one eye and exiting on the far side of the toothy, screeching skull. In the short time it takes the whine of a power cell to recharge, Zelo has moved his aim to the next one over, nearly replicating his shot, but a little low. The blaster bolt goes cleanly through the neck, but the blood is not quite run out as the beast screams in pain and anger. <"Kriff,"> says the Nautolan as he feels angry eyes settle on him.

There may be a lot of the fugitives but they aren't armored Mandalorians. It is nothing less than a slaughter. At least until the Acklays are released. Where the kriff did they get so many of the beasts?! If nothing else that's an investment in time and effort, or maybe they naturalized on this watery world long ago, who knows? Not Hahtavi.

Even so, seeing /seven/ of them come into the arena, at least one of the Kora's licks his lips behind his helm's visor. But he's not alone here, facing the beasts. His clan mates all around him start taking the Acklays down almost with ease - except that both of Hahtavi's shots miss. It's fast and maybe he should have helped finish off the fugitives instead. <<"Shab, maybe they breed them here.">> He keeps moving, keep tabs on how his fellow Koras are doing.

With a mind to /not/ to get his shebs impaled by any of those hideous and powerful claws, Hahtavi may be a bit more focused on evading the Acklays, but he shouldn't forget the fugitives that are still alive either!

Sana's chuckle was contagious as she shrugs in-passing to Val. <"Wait till the next phase, Hahahaha.">

Sumi cuts a fugitive in half, screaming. Then impales a second and throws them from the end of the gleaming lightsaber blade. When she twists in place to try to hit a third, the fugitive screams and backtracks.

Sana is intercepted by a fast moving Acklay that towers over her. Bringing her blades up, she wavers a moment to measure up to her new opponent before the animal stabs the ground to move for her. Sana swings, the Acklay lifts its leg and avoids the bite of beskad. Sana swings again much to the same result. Her third attack is a daring one, which she slides beneath the center of the beast and impales its insides, cutting and spilling the blue juice all over the sand. A moment later and the beast falls, Sana rising up covered in the entrails and juice of a fresh kill.

Sana leaves the swords in the animal and draws out a slugthrower revolver, locking its hammer back.

The Acklays are not fairing well in the arena, and Hera shows her displeasure by growling and slamming her fists against the railing of her suite. <"Must the Gods mock me! This was supposed to be her END.. not a slaughter! Gods DAMN her!!">

Three (3) fugitives remain, and three (3) Acklays still stand, though two (2) are injured.

WHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUD

<<"Send in the Acklays...">> The 'Pig' continues to grunt and Hadrix keeps the steady stream of automatic fire swinging back and forth to the purpose of forcing heads down as much as to put down enemies. <<"Send in the -kriffing- acklays...">> head shaking as hard as the rest of him - beskar plating absorbing as much recoil as the big man's oversized musculature. <<"What's next? Sand Wampa?">> muttering being picked up by comms as he keeps the firing stud pressed. <<"Zelo, on Sana's hip. Hahtavi on Sumi's">> visually mapping paths.

WHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUD

<<"SEND. IN. THE. ACKLAYS.">> temper flaring, but held in check when one of the remaining trio comes dead center in his vision, which causes another blink. There's carbon score on the top of his view and a rivulet of melted paint on the periperal edge. He got shot in the face. When did he get shot in the face? The paint above his right eye bubbled up and stripped away from the beskar. Who the hell shot him in the face?

<<"Who in haraan shot me in the kriffing face?">> is it one of those dead rekkers splattered halfway to Socorro on the sand? <"WHICH ONE OF YOU REKKERS SHOT ME IN THE FACE!?"> externals on and his view sweeping the remaining humanoids.

<"Wait. The what?"> Did that chick just say the 'next phase?' <"Oh, rekt this!"> Valeska jumps out of the way as one massive claw attempts to pin her to the ground. Pow pow pow! A bolt goes straight through the elongated neck of an already staggering Acklay and with a tremulous thud, it collapses to the ground. To stagger no more. <"Sounds like the girl is having temper tantrum!">

Speaking of, she catches Hadrix's growing rage. It is hard to miss! Valeska slinks into the dust cloud kicked up by the falling beasts; moving slightly away from Hadrix and getting clear of his gun-pointing rage.

Zelo spins cleanly out of the way as one of the fugitives takes a lunge for him, though the off-balance leap ends with the figure stumbling away from the Nautolan, whose attention remains on the oncoming leggy, bitey, towering beasts. Orders come in over comms as outside his helmet, plasma fires in bursts and zapping bolts. Zelo glances for a moment to find Sana in the fray and starts walking that direction, but still his E-11 - that amazingly potent weapon imbued with the will of someone who had saved him - trains on the acklay he had first injured, even as its last companion falls to pistol fire. One squeeze of the trigger is enough to sever the beast's head and complete what Zelo had started. As he continues to walk towards the mark he had been given, Zelo turns back and puts one bolt into the back of the man who had tried to run him through. The Nautolan looks to Sana, covered in blue, then around as Kora continues to clean up.

<"Did you say something about the next phase? There's more?"> There's an incedulous look on the Nautolan's face, framing his black pool eyes. But, of course, that's all behind that H-visor'd helm with the custom work of Concord Dawn. It comes out in the vocoder, though.

Roth got bitten by an Acklay, but hey...dudes dug scars, if she could find one! There's a moment taken to wind back after that and use the momentum from the last kill to find the next one. And she does the deed in three quick strikes. The vibrodagger flashes like a light in the middle of dust and blood. The sword delivers it's final say in the matter with a stab to the gut, cauterizing as it sings through the skin. Roth steps back as the body falls and takes a deep breath, looking around for her next target.

Maybe what they really need to do is head up there and find the chick who's running this show and kick /her/ ass. That's what's on Hahtavi's mind as he dodges and hears Hadrix over his buy'ce's internal coms, <<"Hahtavi copies!">> He drops back and to his left, picking up Sumi in his helmet's wrap around view, making sure to watch his Alor's shapely back. Not that Sumi needs it, but he's there anyway.

One last fugative evades Roth's wrath and leap aside, right into Hahtavi's line of fire. His Galaar fires once, nailing the fellow square in the chest and throwing the body back to land hard on the arena sand. Hahtavi's external vocoder clicks on, <"What is this, Clan Rylar's National Finals week?">

<"There is /always/ a third round, Mando'ade. Hahaha. The best things come in threes!"> Sana replies, chuckling still. She turns in place, watching as the Kora clan mop up what's left of first two phases. The final approaches, and judging from the silence of the Ryder clan, they were none too pleased the Gods seemed to favor Kora and Sana this day. <"Stand fast, my new friends. The greatest of foes approach!"> Sana calls out, partly amused because she knows it frustrates the Ryders, but also filled with pride by the show of warrior spirit coming from the Clan Kora.

Sumi arrives to stand beside Sana again, shoulders heaving from heavy breathing. Sumi glances aside to Hahtavi, who has just killed the final fugitive, earning him a quiet nod.

Hera pulls off her helmet, letting down raven black hair that cups a face relatively familiar to Sumi's. It's almost uncanny the resemblance. Hera slams her helmet down and screams. "The Trial of Arasuum have concluded. Now comes the final judgement phase, make way for the Wrath of Kad Ha'rangir!"

Sumi's gaze does not leave Hera despite the gates to the arena opening and the ground shaking. Something large steps forth from the shadow of the arena underworks. One massive clawed hand grips the threshold, followed by another, and the huge head of a Rancor steps out with a maw chocked full of razor sharp teeth. It roars.

Sana notices that Sumi has become distracted and nudges her. <"The way to her is through this beast, Sumi. She is your blood, your /daughter/. Let her see where she gets her natural skill from, yes?">

Sumi quietly looks from Hera to the Rancor, and without a word to tactics, charges right for it.

Sobering is the best word for what comes at long last and Hadrix's cannon droops for a moment, silenced.

<"Would be a Rancor...">

Muscles tensing as the 407 comes up - what is there to say when something like that joins the fray. The big man does what he always does in a moment like this. Head turning, surveying the field. Gaze locking onto each and every member of his brethren. Watching them move, fight, watching them live. Survival is not guarantee. Existence on a singular level is not constant. Within the helmet his mouth forms a line with the barest upward flick at the corners. Truth is constant an unmalleable. Truth and love.

What better way to carry them, or if this be his last - go finally into that end as he begins to walk forward; repeater set in its brace saddle on his hip, foregrip taken and pressed on before the firing stud is squeezed and the 'Pig' begins belching fire again, the thudding pound of the tibanna plasma explosions mingling with the roar from Plan Besh as he leans into the fire.

Valeska has only heard about Rancors. Read about them. Gotten hints and such about their descriptions. But as the lumbering giant makes his appearance and announces his arrival, the crimson armour that is Valeska Jaivon tenses up. It's still a far-cry better than running away which a tiny voice in her head is trying to tell her to do. That voice gets smaller and smaller with every training session.

<"Yeah...."> She finds her voice and, of course, it's sarcasm. <"Yeah, I don't like /that/ one bit.">

The one dubbed Hera -- the maestro of this terrible orchestration -- rips off her helmet in frustrations and Valeska does a bit of a double-take. <"Huh?"> And there's Sana with the helpful commentary that has the merc blinking rapidly. Though no one can see it. <"Er....">

No time! Sumi is running for the Rancor and if that's the tactic of the Alor, Valeska is going to follow her towards the final boss! But in all the excitement, Valeksa has broken one of the first rules of combat: never lose count of your remaining shots. Now she is running headlong into battle, griping a string of curses in a few languages, and ripping her powercell out to replace it with another.

'The best things come in threes.'

<"Judging by the shaking of the ground... I'm hoping it's less than three."> Zelo's hope is rewarded, this time, but that's little consolation when the gargantuan form of a Rancor is slowly emerging from the shadows. He isn't distracted by the woman yelling out every word and command, though in the faint ringing of his ears, he hears enough to know that there's a lot more going on than a rescue mission right now. Still, it's not his concern. His concern is the Rancor that looks very ready to try to eat some Mandalorians, all of whom he would rather see walk out of this in one piece. Still stationed near Sana, per his orders, Zelo does what he does best, and opens fire.

The plasma bolts are tiny, nearly insignificant, compared to the size of the beast, but they score solid contact, burning into and through the leathery skin of the monstrous opposition. In quick succession, a pair of shots are taken, stinging at the neck of this thing. Maybe that's a theme for Zelo, like the heavily armored can he'd opened in the Ragelands with the cannon of a rifle he'd wielded. Just take off the top. Still, something in the Rancor's eyes makes it very easy not to celebrate just yet. This... Is probably going to hurt.

"Well, Roth if you're going to die anytime soon there's no better way to go really." Roth mutters to herself as she watches the Rancor. Then she lets out another banshees wail as she takes two big steps and then kicks off into the air. She lands on the shoulder of the Rancor. Hey ma, watch this! The Arkanian doesn't hesitate to start stabbing into the neck and head of the creature. This was going to get bloody...and icky. Which they were used to. And then Zelo goes flying through the air. That gets her attention with a bit of a growl.

There is a moment that Hatavi shares a brief nod with Sumi, then he's turning his helm to look up into the stands at the enraged Alor of Clan Ryder. Whoa, she /does/ look like Sumi! Enough to give him goose flesh prickling up his back. Hahtavi stands frozen for a few seconds as he over hears Sana's remark before the Rancor ROARS and begins to thunder out. <"Osik. /Another/ rancor."> As if he'd already run into one not very long ago.

All right then, time to earn his keep. Despite the chill that runs up his spine, Hahtavi gets his shebs moving to see if he can get to one side and flank the beast while others keep it distracted. His own first shot hits it but doesn't seem to do it any harm, only a glancing blow. But his second bolt from his rifle nails the beast in the head, possibly even in the eye! <"OYA!"> It's enough to get one's blood up, even as Hahtavi's breathing harder, trying to keep moving. It's a work out. Just as well he didn't bring Iriin along on this op. Maybe next time - but she doesn't have a jetpack yet.

All the same it looks like the Koras are really tearing that beast up. You can smell the meat cooking. <"Rancor steaks tonight!"> Hahtavi backs off again, keeping position like a wingman to Sumi's piloting.

Sana is just behind Sumi, laughing as they run toward the monster. Her revolver goes off a trio of times, each shot requiring her to lock the hammer back again. The slugs find purchase, pocking up the rough brown skin of their foe and drawing blood, but it hardly seems to cause much damage, despite the fact Sana knew her rounds were post-incendiary.

The Rancor meets its foes, swinging an arm/hand to try to swipe them and catching only one. It roars in pain as the trade off is LARGELY one sided. Sumi lops off a toe, causing it to stumble after she's managed to hack the damned thing off. Without balance to stand on two feet, the Rancor begins to favor one side and start to fall. Its injuries, many in number, leave it glistening with blood from all of them.

Hera is enraged. Yet, she watches with a harsh gaze, eyes burning as the clan dives into really /hurting/ their rancor.

There is just enough time as the beast's maw roars its intent and its left arm starts to swing downward - directly at him - for Zelo to wish he were somewhere else. Not just anywhere, but somewhere very particular. It's that thought that stays with him as he tries to duck beneath the massive hand; his relaxed response keeps his leg from shattering too, but there is the definite sound of a bone snapping though, followed by the WUMP of leather-on-durasteel and an angry scream of pain that doesn't need a vocoder to carry.

It's the dive from atmosphere to landing that guides the Nautolan's instincts, and he manages to maneuver a little in the air, squeezing one shot off while he's spinning across the field of battle, taking the Rancor in the neck again and widening the hole he had made. The spin ends with his legs beneath him, and the Nautolan falls back, rolling out of the momentum. Coming to a prone position on his stomach, his broken arm pinned beneath him, Zelo rolls to his left side with a slight increase in volume to his scream. Managing a little more focus, the barrel is guided by his left hand and his right squeezes off another shot - this one more intuitive than aimed, and it manages to find home in the widening hole on the thing's neck. Zelo continues his roll and lies on his back, gasping for breath and trying to keep his pain in check. He's definitely going to need a doctor for this one.

<<"Have to get close. Eyes, inside joints - those are the only weak spots.">> WHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUDWHUD steps moving in quicker order, leaning into the bass roar of the weapon that would have blown many others off of their feet if they weren't using the bi-pod or a low tri-pod for that matter.

Determination. Too stupid to fail. One in the same?

Hadrix is a beast, by Mandalorian hands released. In a short handful of steps he's jogging with a repeater almost as long stock to barrel as he is tall; throaty grunts spitting a line of heavy fire that stitches a black line at the inner thigh of the rancor, churning innards as fast as it cooks them.

<<"Don't go for the neck or the belly - practically as thick as it's back and shoulder hide!">> raking fire again down the same path - forcing the massive creature to stumble and expose itself to the attentions of the others in the ruckus.

Yes, you heard a ruckus. A distinct ruckus.

<<"Zelo, how's that arm?">>

Pop! Toss! Slam! Click! Whiiiiiiiiiir!

Valeska's blaster surges to life against the melody of her thrusters igniting. With a kick of dirt she takes to the air rather flawlessly: something she will reflect upon in awe should she make it out of this alive. But at the moment, there's no worrying for the future. No. Right now, she's fighting her first kriffin' Rancor. Yikes.

No neck and belly? <"What about the head?"> Valeska flies over the Rancor's head trying to draw it's attention as she opens fire in the arch. Two shots pelt it in its ugly, ugly skull as she passes over it then she twists around to find the beast is already starting to waiver. Now flying backwards, Valeska lands on the ground once more near to Zelo.

<"You alright, vod?"> She shouts over her shoulder to him, putting her body between Zelo and the beast. <"I got you, yeah?">

There is just enough time as the beast's maw roars its intent and its left arm starts to swing downward - directly at him - for Zelo to wish he were somewhere else. Not just anywhere, but somewhere very particular. It's that thought that stays with him as he tries to duck beneath the massive hand; his relaxed response keeps his leg from shattering too, but there is the definite sound of a bone snapping though, followed by the WUMP of leather-on-durasteel and an angry scream of pain that doesn't need a vocoder to carry.

It's the dive from atmosphere to landing that guides the Nautolan's instincts, and he manages to maneuver a little in the air, squeezing one shot off while he's spinning across the field of battle, taking the Rancor in the neck again and widening the hole he had made. The spin ends with his legs beneath him, and the Nautolan falls back, rolling out of the momentum. Coming to a prone position on his stomach, his broken arm pinned beneath him, Zelo rolls to his left side with a slight increase in volume to his scream. Managing a little more focus, the barrel is guided by his left hand and his right squeezes off another shot - this one more intuitive than aimed, and it manages to find home in the widening hole on the thing's neck. Zelo continues his roll and lies on his back, gasping for breath and trying to keep his pain in check. He's definitely going to need a doctor for this one. And then a vacation. The Nautolan takes a moment to just breathe and feel the snap in his humerus.

It's not humorous at all, though. <<"I need a doctor. And a vacation. Maybe a weekend.">> Words are short, fragments of sentences clipped as the Nautolan keeps the scream from coming back. The E-11 is cradled on his chest, even with his arm not sitting at the correct angles.

Yeah, Clan Ryder's pet rancor is about to bite the dust, rather litterally. Sumi's hacked part of it's foot off and all his clan mates are shooting or cutting it to pieces. When it hits the ground they are going to /feel/ it up through their boots, spines, and chest cavities.

Hahtavi pauses, rifle in his gloved hands and finds there is no need for him to shoot it as the beast goes down. So he glances at the charge and takes that moment for a reload. Ret'lini. They may not be done here, yet.

Then Hahtavi's looking around, <<"Who's hurt?">> Between him and Hadrix, they can medic up their own. His boots and black armor dusty from the arena's floor, he starts moving towards Zelo but turns his helmet to check on Roth. Valeska's comments cause Hahtavi to smile behind his visor.

It's been a busy day so far. A wary glance is spared to look up towards where Hera is seated. Shab, she really /does/ look like Sumi.

Roth relies on the vibrodagger to get into the literal meat of the Rancor. Between the fire from her clanmates and her stabbing...it's looking precarious. The last stab of the dagger plants into the thick flesh, spurting blood onto her white armor and there's a moment where she realizes that she's going down with this gigantic beast. "TIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMBBBBBEEEEEEERRRRRR!" she shrieks out with a laugh.

Now this was a fight!

The great beast has fallen, given its dying throes before breathing out its final, humid, gargling breath. Sumi recalled the violet blade, killing the weapon she held and hooked it back to her belt. Sana slid the revolver back into her holster and stood there with her hands on her hip.

The stands, full of Ryders, have grown quiet and look to their new Alor for wisdom. Some protest, saying the Gods know no justice. Hera raises her hand, then ignites her jetpack to hover down to the sands below. She lands, though not alone. She's followed by an honor guard of Mandalorians who aim their weapons at Kora and Sana, but their fingers were off the triggers. Once the Koras and Sana have regrouped, Hera addresses them.

"The Gods have spoken. You are to live, Sana, but you are Ryder no more. Leave here with your life, freedom, and honor intact." Hera says, clearly disappointed. "You.. Sumi of Kora, I would see your face before you go. I have not seen such ferocity from a clan before."

Sumi turns to face Hera, standing slightly taller than Hera which requires the younger woman to look up to her. In slow fashion, some what hesitating, Sumi lifts her helm to reveal her face. Normally, it'd have read neutral, but it didn't. She was on the verge of losing her willpower. It was not anger, just raw emotion. So much at once.. Sana.. Hera (Sumi's lost daughter). Sumi hooks her arm over her helm and says softly the same line she's rehearsed for thirty years. "I see you, Hera."

Hera is shocked to see her likeness upon the taller woman. Without realizing it, Hera regards Sana with a questioning look, and Sana just nods her head. "And I see you, Mother."

"I have seen this moment in my dreams, but each time I tried to imagine your face I couldn't see it. You're more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed." Sumi says, voice soft and emotional. "Forg--" Sumi starts to say, but Hera raises her hand to cut her off.

"There is nothing you need to say to seek forgiveness, Mom. You did nothing wrong. The Gods teach me humility and make it bittersweet." Hera says, a tear trailing down her cheek. Sumi steps forward and hugs her daughter for the first time in both their lives, and Hera returns it.

Sana pulls off her own helmet, and shakes out the braids of blonde. Her expression is neutral, but when the two hug, she has a small smile.

Sumi pulls back and wipes her eyes. "We must go now, Hera." Sumi says, to which Hera replies, "I know. Take Sana, and leave. We will talk more. Soon."

Sumi /smiles/, "I would like that."

Hera backtracks, nodding to the others before taking to the air with her honor guard. Clan Kora and Sana are given leave to depart. Sumi turns from watching her daughter to, finally, hugging Sana. The two do not break their embrace until the ship has arrived to take them off this muggy, swampy world.

The reunion is observed in silence by Hadrix. No quips, warnings or otherwise from the storm cloud of a man watching. It's a storm of thoughts careening back and forth inside of his head. The balor glow of his eye in the right branch of the visor flaring before it dims and the repeater is lowered with a vibrating shake of over-taxed muscles.

'See?'

'Shut up.'

Drifting backwards until he has found a 'nook' at the remnants of the Rancor, where he can lean back with the 'Pig' balanced against the rapidly cooling hide of the reptomammalian creature's corpse. Helm still turned where he can just observe the goings between Sana, Hera and Sumi in turn.

'She didn't kill hers.'

"Stop."

'Maybe if they hadn't been blown out an airlock. Childish.'

"Stop."

Caught up in the arguments between rage and reason, glad for the helmet when he realizes the last two things said were out loud - and now it's only a wonder if he had his externals on. No. Gripper is still in her socket, and she's good to keep that in check. The Boar-Wolf of Ealor resumes his observation. A year ago he had started hunting for information, anything traced to Sumi's past. Fortunate that the Alor'Kora's hunt for Sana was the lynchpin to set that in motion. His work. Fate's. No matter. At least there was something there that could mend old wounds.

'Because you can't. You just make new ones.'

"Please stop..."

'Peace."

The new voice, quiet but persistent, making it's appearance before Hadrix finally sighs and sinks down to sit and remove himself from the moment entirely - waiting for the ride home.

The battle over and a reunion thirty years in the making underway, Valeska removes her helmet with a heavy breath. Black hair matted to her face, it's even more hot and human with the damn thing off, it would seem. She watches the pair with furrowed brows, unsure of what to make of it. Sumi certainly seems happy, but that woman -- Hera -- threw a kriffing Rancor at them!

Definitely Sumi's kid.

Not wishing to interfere, Valeska goes over to Zelo to see how she can help, but the moment she sees his arm, her face blanches a bit. She's no field medic, but she's pretty sure it's not supposed to bend that way. "Hang in there, Zelo. We'll get you squared away, okay?" She doesn't want to move him with his arm like that, so the woman is looking around in the aftermath of chaos. "Hadrix?" Where is he? "Tavi?"

His rifle is ready when Hera and her Honor Guard decend, though it becomes clear quickly enough they do not come with intent to finish them off. Hahtavi stands ready, watchful, as he listens. He says nothing, though when Sumi and Hera hug he finally has lowered his rifle. By the time Sumi and Sana embrace, Hahtavi removes his own helmet. His scarred face is sweaty despite the temperature control of his sealed armor. A glove wipes his brow and he takes a breather, pale grey eyes studying those in the arena with them, and then watch their departure.

Time to go and see to their wounded. "I'm here, Valeska." Not a bad day, this one.

Zelo glances up (back?) as he lies flat, seeing the Rancor fall up to the ground from his upside-down vantage point lying on his back. As he sees the Mandalorians from above descending, he shakes his head and starts getting his left arm beneath him. Resting his right wrist on the carbine, some maneuvering turns the E-11's sling into an actual sling as his grip holds his arm steady enough while me makes his way to his feet. Best be standing when the fourth wave starts. But their fingers have trigger discipline and Zelo takes that as a sign, keeping his hand resting over the barrel of his weapon as he watches the verbal exchange between Alors, and the ensuing reunion that follows.

Zelo's own smile has to fight against the pain in his broken arm. But as long as he stands still... He can appreciate a happy ending. Even if it makes him think again of other things, far from here. Black-pool eyes see Hadrix, resting against the Rancor, but he knows the weariness that can follow a heated battle, and there are others closer to the Al'verde who can likely do more to help than he could. The gleaming blue helm turns to face Valeska, and he shakes his head.

<"Improvised sling. It will do for now. A binding when we're on the ship. I have some doctors in steady communication when we touch down. It'll be fine. Just... No more shooting today."> There's an optimistic pause, and then he continues. <"I hope.">