Log:Explorer's Guild: Ko Hentota Map-ssacre

Ko Hentota Map-ssacre

OOC Date: December 6, 2017
Location: Nar Shaddaa, Ko Hentota district
Participants: Sar Yavok of the Explorer's Guild as GM, Kasia Ashkuri, Tarion Tavers, Mujiji, and Hex

The short story: There's maps. And a MASSACRE! Also, Mujiji is having a sale.

The long story:

"And you're sure you saw him roun' here? Horst Mbasi? The guy with the star charts that were stolen?" Sar asks, providing masterful en media res exposition. It's no secret that Sar hates the Night Market. It's too loud, and he's often referred to as the meekest Yavok. He walks through the crowd, getting bumped and jostled by folks of every make and model. "How the heck are we sposed to find him?"

The Night Market is loud, colorful, trashy, and disreputable in every way -- so of course Hex loves it, he obviously feels a great deal of kinship toward anything you could describe with those attributes. He's jabbering away at one of his gross alien countrymen in their gross alien language, ultimately culminating in a purchase of a small bag of some kind of dried plant material. He pockets it and steps away, bumping into some lame human. "Hey, watch where you're --" wait, he knows that old man. Hex brightens up. "Sar!"

Sar Yavok lowers his comlink and says, "Ah, shit." He turns and notes Hex, nodding to the alien as he slides the comlink away. He looks Hex over for a second. "Figures. How's it goin', Ashkuri?" he asks, squinting at his surroundings. So smelly.

"Good." Hex pauses to fish around in a pocket and remove tabac cigarettes and a lighter; he lights up and then raises a brow to offer them to Sar. "What are you up to, then? Following star charts around the galaxy? That definitely never results in unmitigated disaster."

"Doin' some side work. Off the record-type stuff to keep me sharp," Sar says, taking one of the offered cigarettes and bumming a light from Hex. "One of the archaeological firms we work with has had some charts lifted. Important-type charts. So, they asked me if I knew anyone who could get 'em back for 'em."

Hex drapes his lekku comfortably around his shoulders and listens, raising a brow. "Side work?" He echoes. "That sounds very..." vague hand gesture, "Explorer-Guild-y. But this one isn't for Corr, then? You know I'll help you if you need another hand on deck, ka."

"Mostly just tryna keep it away from Sapphira. She's get onto me if she knew I was runnin' roun' down here chasin' thieves," Sar explains, taking a drag off of his cigarette and exhaling the smokely slowly. There's really nowhere safe to blow it out, so someone's getting a face-full of it. "You pay attention to shit. You heard anything about that sorta thing?"

Hex continues to pollute the atmosphere along with Sar, smoking and thinking. "Who cares what Sapphira says? Just ignore her," Hex advises. "She's dumb. I like her, but for a smart girl, she's dumb. I mean shit, she married Tarion, that alone tells you she's got a few crete-rats in the attic of her brain. Let me think, though. Star maps. Somebody named Horst Mbasi?" He mulls this over for a moment. "I mean, there's always someone selling star maps, but -- WAIT. Ka, okay, I think I did hear something about that, earlier. I did hear someone named that was selling maps, but the impression I got was that nobody's buying, not his, and not any other maps. Did hear that here in the market though, so reckon you're close to your man."

"That's true. She did marry Tarion. But then Tess was bangin' 'im for a while. Gross," is all he has to say about that. He spits and continues to look along the line of gross alien merchants with their gross alien antiquities. If only there were a place where all of this stuff could be centralized. Maybe a place with a very long name that's hard to remember after a while. Something to do with Hanzo Lomax, though. Either way, Sar looks at Hex and asks, "You know who he might've been talking to? Anybody down here known to buy stuff like that?"

"Then again, Kasia married me. Some women are crazy," Hex continues, with a hint of amusement. This place has nothing on Hanzo Lomax's Store for the Procurement of Things That Come in Handy During the Long-running Existence of a Person, I will tell you that right now. But it's okay. "Sar, I just told you nobody's buying stuff like that," Hex insists. "But if somebody /were/, it might be -- ok, do you see that Chagrian? No. No, you ass, that's a Togruta. The -- /yes/, that guy. Daas Amokiah. He buys maps sometimes, maybe your guy approached him."

"I thought Chagrians were them little fellers with the masks that were all squeaky and shit," Sar explains, noting the merchant that Hex has pointed out. "Hey, you. You seen a feller round here tryin to off-load topographical maps of Tatooine?" he asks of the gentleman.

The Chagrian looks Sar over and rolls his eyes before gesturing to a man making his way towards the exit of the Night Market, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

"Those are -- what are you even talking about? Chadra-Fan?" Hex exhales smoke and eyes his companions. "How the hell did you people conquer the galaxy when you genuinely have no idea who lives in it?" They're in the smelly, crowded Night Market, Hex and Sar, and have just hassled a Chagrian into pointing someone out. A man making his way towards the exit of the Night Market, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Hex punches Sar in the arm, and then points at him. "There, see? Your man."

"Well, hell...now what am I supposed to do?" Sar asks himself. "I mean, he just stole some maps. I can't gun him down in the market place." Combat knife? No. E-11? No. Disrup-NO. The Old Man grumbles and begins marching his way toward the thief with all of those nice star charts. "C'mon, Ashkuri. If he bolts, I'm sending you after him. I'm too old and my lungs ain't too good."

"It's Ko Hentota, you probably could," Hex points out, but murder is WRONG, or at least it's wrong when there's a lot of witnesses. "Maybe he'll go down to the Undercity, it's way easier to kill people down there," the Twi'lek suggests hopefully. He tromps along with Sar, "Better hope he doesn't bolt though, my lungs are probably in worse shape than yours and I did all my best running like 35 pounds ago."

"I thought you were getting fat. The jacket hides it well," Sar offers over to Hex with a grin. He bobs and weaves through the crowd between him and the thief. Unfortunately, Mr. Mbasi has a friend in the crowd who shouts, "Horst! They're after you! Run, man!"

The scar-faced man looks over his shoulder at the pair of pursuers and takes off into a sprint!

"Yeah. Turns out life outside the Army is full of great food and nobody making you run five miles every morning," Hex doesn't deny it. But the jacket hides it well! What a great jacket. What a treasure. A shout, a sprint -- "Aw, witchtits," Hex sighs, and drops his cigarette. "Why they gotta be like that? Sar? Why? Listen, if I get a cramp in my side, I'm just going to shoot this sandmaggot. On STUN, on stun. Unless I forget." He gives pursuit!

"Holy hell," Sar says as he watches Hex react with uncharacteristic amounts of speed. "Fast little sucker, ain't he?" He asks nobody in particular.

Hex will manage to close the distance between himself and the fleeing thief-man without so much as a sweat.

Don't kid yourself, Hex is probably at least slightly sweaty, and it probably smells slightly weird, because he's not human. Weird alien sweat, pit-staining whatever poor shirt lies between him and the red-flowered duster. Despite his protests of the various ways his body has been ruined by the conveniences of modern life, he does manage to catch and snag his quarry, shoving him roughly around the corner of a building and holding him smushed up against the wall while they wait for Sar. "Ryma'at!" he breathes, panting, huff puff. "You... made me... run, gods, you... dumbass spitlicker. I hate.. that. I hate YOU."

"Get your stinkin' hands off my, you noodlenoggin!" the (supposed) common thief shouts before slipping a knife out of his belt and turning to jab it into Hex!

"Hex!" shouts Sar, reaching for his blaster as he begins running after the thief...who is now running away. Again.

"GUHCK," Hex says, articulately, and with some surprise, as a knife neatly finds its way right between a couple of his ribs and into a lung. "Szu'tak," he hisses, wetly, as his quarry escapes and starts running again. He's in no position to chase this time, just leans against the wall and bleeds, though he does have the presence of mind to draw, and fire, on the fleeing man. It's a good shot, but retrieving him is going to have to wait a moment, because all Hex is up for is coughing, "Saaaaaaar," a whine for his comrade to go get that Duffeldude.

"Now look, you arse," a familiar voice can be heard, rising in volume abruptly as a nearby conversation escalates. "I'm telling you, all I want is a set of throwing knives. I don't care that if I buy a whole sword, I get the throwing knives half off, because they're already priced twice as high as they should be, which means they'll be regular price. So what you're going to do is give- don't walk away from me! Hey!" That's when Tarion notices a set of tattooed green lekku pinning a dude to a wall, and that dude shanking the dumb Twi'lek, and then the Twi'lek stunning him. None of this registers as important until the blaster shot. "I know that stun setting. Hex!"

The apparently racist thief collapses to the duracrete and rolls a little bit as his body goes limp from the stun bolt to his back. It's not a good look. "Holy shit! They got Mbasi!" shouts a voice from the crowd. The very same that warned the man in the first place. "Get those charts!" he shouts.

And, just like that, a trio of armed men (bringing the total to 4 armed men) begin running toward the downed courier.

Sar isn't concerned about the thief at this point, and is instead moving towards the Twi'lek, who he'll usher into cover if he can. All around them, people are screaming and scurrying. "You alright, kid? Looks like you got got pretty good."

All around them, people are screaming and scurrying - but some are just scurrying. "Th'fu- don't /step/ on me you oversized waste of skin. You look like a Bantha's asshole decided t'stop spewin' shit and /be/ shit instead. Watch the tail, kriffwad." The owner of these dulcet tones is remarkably small and pushing an equally-remarkably small cart against the current of sentients rushing out of the way. The cart smells bad and is covered in dead... Fish? Let's hope it's fish. "Fuckin' /move/!" It's the Tavers bitch that the dreaded Mujiji recognizes first, mostly because the talk of throwing knives catches the Kushiban's attention. Aaaaaand then the chaos is noticeable. "Ah hell, I don't need this." Blasters are being drawn, men are going down, an ugly green Twi'lek is bleeding against a wall, and Moo is out. Unfortunately, the mag mechanisms on her cart are faulty and she can't get the thing to start moving again - cheap piece of crap. So she's stuck in the middle out of it, out in the open, with no idea what's going on.

Good thing she brought a gun.

"Get the maps, Sar! THE MAPS," Hex insists, "I'm fine!" He emphasizes the point by pushing away from the wall, and coughing up blood, and then spitting a gross blood loogie on the ground. "Mission objective, obtain the mission objective! ....Ha, I always wanted to say something like that." Having had enough of that thing where he pretends for a moment they need somebody alive, he toggles his weapon back to kill and fires at another of Mbasi's friends. He misses, and shoots a large decorative array of paper lanterns that promptly burst into flame, causing shrieking from the vendor below. "Oops," Hex muses, and looks down at his blood soaked shirt. Pressing his hand against it is definitely helping!

There is screaming, and chaos, and somehow Kasia knows this has something to do with her husband, because of course it does. OF COURSE. She pushes her way through the crowd to find familiar figures, and not so familiar figures. She's got a bag slung across her body, and as soon as she sees said familiar figures arming themselves, she's digging in her bag to pull out a blaster. "What's happening?" she shouts to basically anyone that's here that she knows, and can hear her.

"Yeah! Okay! Just...stay in cover, dumbass," Sar says to Hex before sliding his S-5 out and moving towards the package. He pulls the trigger twice and sends some bolts towards the bad bois, but none of them hit anything. Hex's shot does manage to leave a super cool hole in one of the bad guys' heads, though, so...well done Hex!

"Wait!" Tarion yells as Sar emerges, looking between Hex and this other guy as Sar shows up, recognizing Sar as "That's the guy that shot my arm off! Hex, he doesn't love you like I love you!" The bounty hunter doesn't know who these fools are, or what's going on, but there was a mention of "Maaaaps?!" There are maps, there is Hex, he is- he is dying, and that means "The maps are mine!" Shooting begins, and he whips his rifle off his shoulder, leveling it quickly at the nearest stooge and blasting at him. He misses. "Hm."

"I DON'T KNOW!" Mujiji shouts back at Kasia, ducking behind her cart and scrambling to get her Modified DL-18 out of its holster. The Kushiban eyes the chaos, notes the familiarity of those involved, and - against her better judgement, what little judgement she has - lines up a shot. She fires off two rounds, the first going wide (nearly taking Tavers' ass with it), but the second connects with one of the goonies; the incendiary shot buries into his hip and promptly catches fire. "Oof, ouch! Ow! The flames!" He screams as it eats at his jacket. "Hi!" Moo calls cheerily over toward Hex, Kasia, Tarion, and... That guy! Raising a paw and giving it a little wiggle. "We're having a sale today if yer not busy after this." Isn't she just the best salesman.

"Hi, nonna!" Blaster fire, everywhere! Hex, though stabbed, manages to fire off a head-shot that explodes head-bits of one of the thieves all over everything, which is intensely satisfying. He looks pleased. It's not satisfying for long, though, because he straight got stabbed through the lung, and there is blood everywhere, and he's taking big breaths like he's trying to get above some water. And ignoring that about his present condition, because that seems like the best course of action, right. Hex looks down at his mess of a shirt again, man, that red splotch is so... large... and that makes him the perfect, distracted target for one of the goons. A bolt connects, this time mid chest, a little lower, and he gets pushed back against the wall again with the force of it. Cough... blood eeeeeverywhere. He looks disappointed. "I'm good," Hex coughs out a promise. "I'm good, that would kill a... lesser...." Thud. He collapses. FREE GUN GUYS!

Kasia hadn't seen him yet, but then she spots him, her bleeding and close to death husband, who slumps down and inches even closer. This isn't good. "Hex!" Her expression darkens, and she lifts her blaster, taking aim at one of them attackers. She squeeze the trigger once, and then a second time, red streaks of death cutting through the air to hit one very unlucky criminal, who becomes a very unlucky late criminal in short order. She shoots a look around quickly, and then tries to make a dash for Hex.

The Night Market. Come for the weird meats, stay for the shoot-outs. Bolts are flying left and right as the Battle for the Maps continues. Who will come out on top? Who will...get to see...the...the topography of Tatooine? It's mostly...it's flat, really.

One of the mercs raises his E-11 as he sidles his way toward the duffle bag. He's aiming at Mr. Noodleboy. He hits Mr. Noodleboy. Then there's a guy on fire, courtesy of Mujiji's well-placed incendiary rounds. One of them was well-placed at least. The other set fire to a lonely spinster's apartment about two blocks away. She's lonely no longer. Rest in Peace, Mayella Osali; proud pianist of The First United Church of the Force on the corner of Lehtera and Main.

Sar doesn't know Mayella, nor is he privy to the fact that she's burning alive in her lovely, rent-controlled, two bedroom apartment that her son helped her move into right before he died in the war of Rebel Aggression right this very moment, so he's still pretty gung-ho about fighting these mercenaries. "HEX IS DEAD!" he shouts, firing off another duo of bolts. Actually, the first one is not a bolt. The Theed Arms S-5 blaster pistol is equipped with two triggers. One that activates the standard pew pew bolts that everyone knows and loves, and the other that fires a cable launcher. The first shot is one of the latter.

The cable head digs into the leg of one of the merc's, which surprises the hell out of Sar, because that's not what he wanted to do at all. So, rolling with it; he yanks as hard as he can on the blaster pistol and sends the man toppling over, smacking his head into a nearby market stall. Sar then turns his blaster on the guy who's running around on fire. He kills the flaming man. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

"A sale?!" Tarion stops in his tracks, his head snapping towards Mujiji so quickly his neck pops. "On what?" Damn you, Moo, the kid can't resist a bargain. A thudding sound gets him focused again, and the bounty hunter turns back to the battle, seeing his employer collapsed on the ground in a pool of blood. "I claim his bong collection," he cries heroically, a flake of dead skin peeling off of his face to flutter in the breeze as he hops into the air, lands on a merchant's cart, topples it, falls on his ass, yells "I've been shot!" and shoots the last remaining living merc from his seat on the ground. He hasn't been shot. "I killed this one!" No, he didn't.

Still crouched behind her cart, Moo is unaware (and callously uncaring) to the mayhem her missed shot is causing for Mayella. "Aye! Sale! Y'look lonely, we've got some things with fangs what'll warm yer bed. Not in the kinky way, unless you're into that, in which case... Well, we'll just charge you more." This rabbit is without a conscience. "No you didn't you twat!" She climbs up on top of her cart full of nasty dead things and fires, catching the remaining thug in the back of the neck. His head is engulfed in flame and his death is almost instaneous, but Moo still hopes it hurt like heck. For good measure, she fires again, leaving a scorch on the pavement. But she has a reputation to uphold, so to add insult to injury she chucks one of the dead fish at him. It slops to the ground a good foot away from his fiery head and flaming lips. She stands in silence, watching the man burn before turning her gaze up and passing it over the rest of them - Hex, probably dead, Kasia, probably widowed, Tarion, an idiot, and... that guy! "So, like I said, we're having a sale tonight."

Hex surely looks like he's dead. He looks just like those other goons lying on the ground and that's been his secret... this whole time, he was only an NPC summoned by Sar. But let's focus on what's important here, which is that Kasia is single now, amirite?!

JK he's still alive. But only barely, and you'd have to be right up near him to determine that; even so it probably takes a minute to see.

People are dead, and Kasia isn't paying them any attention, she's too busy rushing to Hex. She doesn't even concern herself with the fact that the ground is gross, or that when she kneels down beside him, she's getting her dress dirty. That is how much she loves this mostly dead green goon on the ground. "Hex?" Oh shit, is he dead? She's frantic as she checks for signs that he's not dead, which means that it takes about twice as long, but after what feels like forever, she establishes that he is, in fact, still breathing. "We need to get him to the clinic now!" She barks out that order to basically anyone within earshot.

"GODDAMN IT," Sar shouts, looking around. "Maps're gone," he explains, hands resting on his hips, as Mayella screams her last. He slides the blaster pistol into his holster and turns to look Kasia, an actual look of remorse on his face. "Kasi...I'm...I'm so sorry. Was just supposed to be the one," he says, no clue that Hex is just playing possum.

But what Sar noted earlier is true. Horst Mbasi is laying on the duracrete...a relatively new, smoldering hole in his head, and the duffle bag is gone. Somebody finished the job and absconded with the MAPS during the firefight, so Hex basically died for nothing, so...well done Hex.

Oh, hey; he's alive! Cool. Sar forgets his plans of comforting the grieving widow with expensive meals and scented oils and rushes over to the two of them. "Dumbass," he says to Tarion, "Go steal a speeder or somethin'! Flag down an air cab!"

"Come on, you... what are you, a womprat?" Tarion moves to scoop Mujiji up and tuck her under his arm, but that does not seem to be well received and he moves on to a different plan. A better plan. "Okay, just walk," he suggests instead, pointing towards the speeders zipping by on the thoroughfare. "Here's the plan. You run out there, and play in the traffic until you get hit, then I'll run in and freak them out, okay? I've done this a dozen times. Pretend you're going after your cart or something."

"Screw that, you guys can - UNHAND ME OR I WILL SKIN YOU FROM THE TOES UP SLOWLY. PAINFULLY. IN FRONT OF YOUR LOVED - okay, that's a terrible plan. Should work, let's do it." When picked up, Mujiji's fur goes jet black, but it returns to white the moment her paws touch the duracrete. Are they actually doing this? Sure. Moo hesitates on the edge of the traffic Tarion has pointed out and she waits one... Two... NOW! The Kushiban rushes out in front of an oncoming speeder and throws herself up on the hood. She richochetes off as it screams to a halt and she is thrown off with a 'thud'. That actually hurt. "FUCK YOU!" The driver screams as he tears away without stopping.

Dusting herself off, the Kushiban rises shakily. "Okay... One more time." She tries again, and this time the driver /does/ stop and get out - but he's not buying it. Moo looks battered as she slowly slides off his cracked windshield. "Listen, lissen... Youuuuu hit me." Her head hurts. Things are red.

Hex slowly turns a more and more unpleasant shade of pale green, like discount breath mints, or an endive. The dark red puddle under him grows larger, and larger, and larger. He doesn't respond to Kasia, which means she's still hot and single for now.

Kasia has a handkerchief pressed against the stab wound in an effort to slow the bleeding, looking around for where the others are. Can she seem them throwing poor Moo at speeders? Nope, she can't quite see that from her current position. "What is taking so long? SOMEONE HELP GET HIM TO THE CLINIC!" She doesn't often yell, but this is a unique situation, and Hex is too dead for her to yell at him, so everyone else is going to have to deal with it for now.

Sar Yavok clips his blaster pistol into place and kneels down next to the Twi'lek, looking up to watch the small rodent get effin' smoked. "C'mon, Kasi. I'll walk 'im there if I have to." He leans down and wraps Hex's arm around his shoulder before sliding his other arm under his knees. He strains to pick the fat-boi up, but he manages. "Dumbass! Knock him out or something! We've got to go!"

"Stop right there, criminal scum!" Tarion shouts, running out into the street behind Mujiji, all armored and with a gun and a muddy arse. "You violated this rodent. Surrender your vehicle, or face a jury of your peers," he instructs in an imperious voice that an astute observer might recognize as an imitation of an imperious smuggler. Needless to say, it doesn't work.

"I'm not givin' you nothin'!" The driver yells back, turning to get back in the speeder and zoom off.

"Alright fine, have it your way," the bounty hunter smirks, leveling his rifle and blasting a stun bolt out haphazardly, knocking the creature, some shark-headed alien, to the road unconscious and blowing the door off in the process. "Let's load 'em up!"

"Yeah!" Moo shouts, clamboring into the vehicle. "I'll drive!" There is an awkward moment spent trying to level out the foot-reaching-pedals to eyesight-over-controls that inevitably ends in failure. "You drive." She decides instead, jumping into the back and completely forgetting that she's got a cart full of fish guts just sitting out there in the middle of the Night Market. It's probably gone by now.

Hex's breathing grows shallower. You sure you don't want to just let him shuffle off this mortal coil? What about all the times he ate your lunch out of the break room fridge?

"I'll drive," Sar says, loading the damaged Twi'lek into the back of the speeder before he takes his spot in the driver's seat. "Somebody strap him in," he says, before kicking the remaining chunks of door free and waiting for everyone else to pile in. Once they're all loaded up, he'll put that foot hard on the pedal and do some real Smokey and the Bandit shit to try and get Hex to the clinic before he dies and turns into a paste or dissolves into rose petals or whatever happens to Twi'leks when they die.