Log:Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall

With careful navigation through the Night Market and only a few items lost to sticky fingers or offered in trade, the group has gained some crucial intel from Konig. An apparent mastermind that rules large territories of Ko Hentota, Konig points the group towards the Undercity where they will find the place--not a man--named Ol'Pickery by the docks. His last royal mercy granted to the group is the tip that their endeavors will require better protection as the Undercity isn't "as safe and secure as my streets." Given the nature of Ko Hentota, anything worse is worth extra preparation. There's also the secondary group of treasure-hunters racing for the prize.

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Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall

OOC Date: April 29, 2023
Location: Ko Hentota District, Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Maelstrom (GM), Bors Thul, Colo Nell, Amal Jha, Kademir Taerok, Kael Greystorm, Rieve Selki, Cadogan West

{(X< The Grot, Undercity - Ko Hentota District, Nar Shaddaa >{(X)}-{(X)}-{(X)}

This well known spot in the Undercity is referred to as The Grot by locals. Legend has it that what started out as a puddle has become a rather sizable pond sustained by a constantstream from upper levels. Is it runoff, industrial waste, a mix of the two, or something even worse? It changes from day to day. This wastewater pond is surrounded by a shore of trash and grime that has been trampled flat over the years and a few ramshackle docks that provide questionable protection from the corrosive waters.

The Grot is perpetually murky and has an offensive smell that hangs in the air like a choking miasma. What draws people to this awful waterhole is the chance of valuables being recovered the muck and occasional unidentifiable corpse. This leads many to "fish" for treasure while adventurous souls dive in directly. Sometimes they even return... if the monstrosities that lurk below the pond's thick surface do not find them first.

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-- Maelstrom --

Ol'Pickery is a building in the same way that stepping on a rusted nail is a means of acupuncture: impromptu and a terrible idea. What looks like a pile of junk and garbage squats at the edge of the Grot, distinctive by the makeshift dock that extends out from it. Everything is makeshift down here from the beaten path through the garbage to the buckets trying to capture 'cleanish' water from above before it hits the ground.

The treasure-hunting group is on said dock looking over what appears to be a scavenged and repurposed hover skiff made aquatic. A patchwork of wiring, old parts, and ill-fitting panels. The greasy old woman that runs the Ol'Pickery is in the middle of an explanation after she pockets the chits paid to her. "They require working knowledge of circuitry an' shite to keep it running. Hope you got some brains on ya. And the steerin' is piss, so... ya know. Wheel tends to stick." Everything tends to stick.

As the group boards the dubious vessel, the old woman who never gave her name hobbles back towards Ol'Pickery. "Grot's full of junk and debris. Whole buildin's what fell down here and such. Some of it you can see comin' and some of it... well. Use yer eyes. There was a group what left here just a few minutes ago headin' in the same direction."

Rivals! The vehicle, affectionately called a Grot Skiff, rumbles to life with the noxious cough of machinery wishing for death as propellers spin and lurch them forward. The race is on!

-- Bors Thul --

<"Oh... that's... promising."> the cultured voice filtered through helm vocalizer, smacking at one side of the steering yolk and shaking his head - digging in a hip mounted kit for an oil pick and a probe to begin squirting lubricant into the works before poking and jabbing at things with the probe.

<"Nary a worry, we'll shall only be cast unto the oblivion of our gods favor, or disfavor, as it were should systems fail..."> looking towards the... well one of the Mandalorians on deck - the motion of his head and the cerulean visor of the antiquated commando armor giving the only indication of such, <"Daresay, oh armored kinsmen. Wary of which way I need be, lest we find our path sodden and our lungs inundated?">

He speaks in High Galactic. Of course he does.

A sniff within his helm and Bors takes note of something very wrong with the ship controls. The probe that had been used to try and help loosing steering control is moved, to the top of the throttle bar slot, jammed in and levered to force a little extra length to the gauge. Then a paint-stylus comes out and a small, silver 11 is written at the new extent that the throttle can traverse.

"That's better..."

-- Colo Nell --

<<"Are we getting paid enough for this?">> Colo asks through his helmet's vocoder. The sound's unmistakably the Corellian accented-words of the man's typical, worrisome ways. It's also asked at no one in particular. Colo boards what he dubs the 'Ol'Rickety' only after a few others have ensured it won't sink by boarding it first. <<"Right, then!">> Such exuberance.

Though he keeps his eyes peeled, his ears could use some gumming up. Maybe they already were. Bors' language makes him squint through his visor. <<"Come again, mesire?">> He questions and looks plaintively towards Rieve. Maybe another noble can figure this out. Either way, the Corelli keeps yammering in Coronet City Basic, arm extended to point out obstructions: <<"You're gonna wanna steer clear of...yeah, you see the garbage looking thing there? Right. That's garbage. Steer clear of that.">> Wise counsel, this, but Colo gets 'em into the deeper water, with some aid by the pilot.

-- Amal Ja --

Amal Jha was a trader, a mover of goods legal and illegal. And in her many years of doing the work, she had become accustomed to making due with what she had to work with. So stepping onto a questionable skiff? Not a problem. Moving to find an access point to a system to operate said skiff that was equally questionable? Also not a problem. The weapon at her back was moved to rest lightly in a hand. This was not the place to go unarmed.

-- Kademir Taerok --

It's difficult to not step from digitigrade leg to digitigrade leg in excitement. Kademir is managing for the most part. This is something new, and at least to him. Doesn't come with that deep Nar Shaddaa funk. Though his armors systems are going to be working overtime later. The elongated helmet turns its visor on the others on this particular type of hunt first. Then its upon the wreck of a system this skiff has. A little BD unit perches on his right shoulder, using the hilt of his sword-configured chain-whip as a steadying support.

Wasting no time, he links his interface to the skiff, uses a datapad as go between to his helmet systems.Kade's head rocks back. <"Dear system, who hurt you?"> There's a curious burst of binary from his shoulder. <"No little guy you're liable to get a virus or something."> He's tapping a finger against the datapad, and watching Aurebesh crawl across his helmet's hud as much as the datapad. <"Okay. Top five code messes I have ever seen. Top of that list now I think."> Tap tap tapperoo... and he's in.

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael just looks at the 'skiff' for a moment then just sighs, "Lets do this I guess." Settling into a spot out of the way of the crew that's making this ship function he grabs ahold of something. He checks his pistol holstered at his right hip then left hip making sure they'll slide out as needed... Then a quick test of the sword over his shoulder... After that he's watching for their rivals... But he does just turn his head to stare at Bors for a moment, "That's one way to look at it." After a bit he points towards the other skiff ahead just before it rounds a broken tower, "We're gaining and they look like they're not in any rush. Should be fun when we're closer."

-- Rieve Selki --

Rieve boards that skiff with a graceful pounce and adopts a most piratical stance at the bow of the grot skiff! Oh what a time to be alive! From attending a high society ball in New Vertica, to playing pirates in the Undercity! Sailing through toxic waters after a treasure! Racing against another crew! Oh such excitement! Why it is as Rieve unslings his old rifle that he sets about tinkering with the settings on his helm, night vision, and various other little things that allow the Hapan to see down here in the generous gloom of Ze Unterzee!

A glance back at Colo, and Rieve grins beneath his helm. "Nary a worry indeed!" Oh that accent flows, it drifts, the words tally and linger, they artfully sail in the wake of the last. It is a flowing accent, it is the accent of love. It is so very Hapan. "Take the best path or we'll all drown horribly, and I should imagine we'll melt from the inside out before we drown though, what what?" He adds a little High Galactic flourish as he sets his left foot against the bow, rifle butt nestled against his thigh, and not a damn thing spotted as he fiddles with his helm. "Should our systems fail, we are so royally screwed!" Rieve the Translator Dude continues, grinning throughout. "Also... I think we're being paid in excitement!"

-- Cadogan West --

"And here I thought me days of junk boating was long behind," Cadogan remarks with a wry tone coloring the sardonic words. The young man climbs aboard, knowing enough of very bad floatation devices that he picks a spot squarely above the keel line, shifting his weight against any turn in a (no doubt futile) effort to help the pilot keep the scrap skiff from swamping. As the vessel gets underway, he draws a pistol and keeps half lidded eyes scanning the 'lake'. Bors says nary a worry? "Oh, I've a few bloody worries, gov. No slight on y'hand, yeah? More skeptic of the damn barge, aye?"

Spotting the rival craft a moment after Kael, he idly flicks the blaster toggle back and forth from kill to stun a few times. "How harsh ye lot want to handle them?" he wonders of his erstwhile shipmates.

-- Maelstrom --

The ship sets sail for a three hour tour. We've got the Skipper, Gilligan, the Professor... I think we all know who the Movie Star is. Who gets to be Mary-Ann?

Misfortune's Favor, for all it's uncountable flaws, is a surprisingly speedy ship. Metal panels welded and riveted together rattle and bang as the ship cuts across the Grot, building up speed and drousing the crew aboard with a healthy amount of backwash. It's absolutely putrid, guaranteed to stain any actual fabrics it comes into contact with. A stench that will stay in the nose for weeks like a well-aged jug of blue milk.

Up ahead, the crew of Plunder Blunder are just rounding a hazard of bent metal and girders; careful to try to navigate these treacherous waters. That all goes out the window when the rival ship with our intrepid heroes is spotted catching up. And fast.

"Aw, drek! I told you I heard there was a second group!" Shouts a blue-skinned twi'lek.

"Shut it, Zim'tupa! Get this engine goin'!" It's the eyepatch-wearing driver barking the orders as she struggles with her own control. "Tereo! Keep an eye out! Berg and Seneo, you know what ta do!"

A Quarren and Codru-Ji bring up their weapons, charging them quickly with murderous intent.

-- Bors Thul --

Gov... to think he so lowborn. Another sniff but Bors lets it go, looking ahead to the navigations from Colo while Rieve repeats what he said to the former. Head ticking to one side and a very genteel 'WHAMPK' of his boot goes against the navigation column, earning a few rumbling clunks and a little more responsiveness from the controls. For a moment.

<"I say. Can foul fetid coagulated contraption carrying intrepid investigating innovators be given a proper smack... so I shan't die -older- by the moment the keel scrape farthest shores?"> helmet vox amps boosting to be heard over the din and he slaps the throttle control. It was at 10.2...

Ten. Point. Two.

Unacceptable.

<"Now you... we said full speed... Not fullish."> another meaty kick to the column and he grabs the throttle and jams it forward until it is seated properly where he -intended- it, before. A particularly interesting racket rising from the drive systems and the skiff's front lifting slightly. <"Oh my."> his voice absolutely delighted as he starts aiming for the bigger waves. Like they were 'soft' ramps.

A-Wing pilots are insane.

-- Colo Nell --

<<"What...what?">> Colo pathetically repeats back to Rieve's dazzling array of nonsense, translations not sinking through to the Coronetter's skull. Still, he's not here to bash about the flourishing, fiddling Hapan, not with how nice he looks today. <<"Please just make sure you don't get blasted, my dear. I can't bear the thought of -two- of us producing pretty corpses,">> Colo vocorders back, then gets serious. Mostly because someone has to be. A skeptical look through his visor is shot at Cadogan taking up the High Galactic tone and if a Mandalorian can shudder through his armor, Colo's the one to invent it. At least his helmet filters out the stink of the Grot.

While reminding himself to get a translator from Hoity Galactic Basic, Colo thanks the Maker for the stink-avoidance that lets him stay at his most alert. Enough to where, when Bors takes them into overdrive and aims for the rival ship, Colo's swift enough to unholster his blaster and crack off a wide shot. One might ask why he'd fired swiftly, except the practiced gambler quickly calls out through his vocorder in short, swift sentences of warning: <<"Bors! See where I shot? Crags and rocks! Steer around it!">> Colo hates lying to allies, but he hates missing by a parsec even more.

-- Amal Ja --

As the call came for more power, Amal got to work, routing her way into a particularly squirrelly bit of the 'computer's' subsystems. Whatw as going on outside of her current worldview was not passing by unnoticed, but at this range, and with her hands busy, there was very little she could do to assist in turning the tide against the other scavengers. For now, she simply focused on trying to finesse the skiff's control systems, to make the ride as smooth as possible. The prospect of waves...did not help matters.

-- Kademir Taerok --

Tuning out the Quarren and Codru-Ji, Kademir taps at that datapad and interface with intent. He focuses on the dance of keys to slice a little more of his will into this antiquated spliced nightmare of a system. What does distract him, though for a moment, is Bors speech patterns. His head cocks sideways for a brief second, and then he's right back into the thick of coaxing the system. After all, his own speech probably sounds weird to Bors.

<"Let's see what we can get this puffer pig to do."> With the maneuvers beginning in earnest, he activates the maglocks in his boots for now, and utilizes the unique functions of his legs to squat down further for balance. He leaves his E-11 holstered for now. He recognizes Amal's efforts beginning, game recognizing game. Letting her lead, Kade builds off what she was attempting. <"Mom always said ladies first, if you coul- yeah! There. Nice. I can tweak that, sweet foundation you built."> Always good to work with a professional of sorts.

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael grins a bit as they get into range and then when he overhears them he aims for the pilot of the other skiff... Wait.. He reaches down with a relaxed speed and grace from years of being a gunslinger his pistol comes up and three shots would bark but with his X-8 pistol they're silent as they cross the distance the first missing completely the second being deflected by something but the third hitting her leg with enough force that she's gonna be feeling that in the morning. "Enemy pilot almost out for the count. Next target for me will be the enemies with weapons out. I just wanted to hamper their forward momentum some."

-- Rieve Selki --

"Mon Capitaine!" Rieve yells back from the bow. "Adjust your course to better follow their wake for the next five beats, then cross their wake as it crosses us a beat after!" He pauses for a moment, raising his free hand as he eyes the enemy skiff. "Left hand down a bit! Now!" The very advice ringing out as he slowly sets to levelling his rifle. The bouncing of the skiff means it takes time for the one time noble to ready his weapon. The sight bouncing, his breathing slowing.

In and out the Hapan breathes. In and out. In... in... hold it. The sight drifts across one of the enemy, and Rieve takes that shot. A wild crack reverberates about the very Grot, that rifle billowing with a sudden eruption of smoke that washes back across the skiff as it plows through that small acrid cloud. The shot plows directly into the human driver of the enemy skiff. Blood. Armour shattered. The shot rings out true. Rieve's aim was nigh perfect. It was a clean kill, the best one could hope for. Painless. Kitli never knew what hit her. That earlier pain? Rieve solved that problem by introducing no pain at all. Just oblivion.

"Well Cadogan mon brat! It seems they made the decision for us oui? Return fire at will, let them feel the sting of your rebuke yes?" A helmeted nod is offered Cadogan as Rieve rides the waves and casts a daring glance back at Colo. "We're too beautiful to die this day nia'n cor, Valeska would kill us! You first of course. Then me. And then me again for allowing it to happen!"

-- Cadogan West --

There is nothing remotely healthy about the quantity of spray kicked up in the dank air. Cadogan angles his face away from the prow and closes one eye to keep the foulness out of his sight. Rieve's rejoinder earns a dry sniff. "So it seems, yeah?" as Rieve guns down the pilot, Cadogan holds his fire until another of the rival crew step to replace her, firing off a bolt that takes Tereo in the leg. Ducking back a bit, he grins aside to the Hapan for a moment, cracks a crooked grin and hollers over the sound of the wretched engines, "OI. BORS, I'MA HIT EM WIT THE ROCKET, YEAH? BRACE."

-- Maelstrom --

"Kriff! I'm hit!" Kitli barely gets that cry out, the second shot from Kael that would've killed her bouncing off her Web Shielded head in a burst of beautiful tech barrier. This... this is what our treasure hunters hope to gain at the end of this deadly race. The Catalyst Cores that could go into crafting a piece of this new technology. A piece Kitli pays for when Rieve brings eternal darkness to her with a pop.

Tereo, the other human on the Plunder, screams in rage; shoving his now dead companion aside and scrambling into the driver's seat. "Rekk me! She was our best pilot! Shoot them, you idiots!" BAM! He takes a shot in the right leg as he tries to get into the driver's seat. "SHOOT THEM!"

Somehow Tereo manages to drive /and/ navigate around the hazards of the Grot but it's not easy. Behind him, their twi'lek engineer Zim'tupa abandons their focus on the circuitry to open fira madly with Berglof and Seneo. Raining a volley of shots back at the group, pelting Rieve and Kael in direct retaliation.

Something is yelled about a rocket launcher and all four faces blanch. Tereo yanks on the wheel, sending their boat colliding into the Misfortune's Favor with a gnarly SCREEEEEECH of metal against metal. But to no avail. Sustaining damage, the Favor pulls away, hitting a slope of old durasteel hull sticking out of the water and launches into the air, gaining on their rivals and just looking badass in the process.

-- Bors Thul --

<"Unto rock and upthrust detritus I've no love nor desire. But lo and be a'joy'd to see my course is chartered for loftier destination,"> Emperor's Bones, but the man can talk... and the accent is, in itself, distinctly Core, but certainly not Kuat or Coruscant. Rieve's course adjustments are taken, though, to allow the gunners their shots - even if it means a smoother ride overall. For now.

The extra speed and responsiveness in the controls eliciting a triumphant... sound from the Black Knight of Alderaan now and he <"Ah! Joyous, for it would present Mandalore has granted fine works of sight and technical matter and my bosom swells for the gratitude that seek to burst the cage around mine heart!">

There is a KLONK from where The Black Knight of Alderaan stands, his boots locking down. Knees bending the skiff slews to one side and then another, disrupting the wake being chased in and... angling towards a hump of particularly glistening ... something. The skiff is thrust up in a skimming advance, velocity carrying it aloft on an angle meant to smash the other ship... but there is a new passenger on the ship. Looking confused. Mucus covered. Frog-Dog-Esque. But a mutated freak of the deeps of Nar Shaddaa.

Bors may yet adopt it.

Bring it home.

'My dear! I am home! I've brought a present.'

Screams.

-- Colo Nell --

Rieve's desperate, well-timed 'Now!' rings out in Colo's ears just as the crackle of blasters starts up in earnest. Colo might have been the first to shoot--was he? memory's a strange thing--but he's not the last, nor even close to it. His blaster's still secure in his grips, but his teeth are chattering at the chop of the Grot beneath them and the skiff ahead. Fortunately, Bors is at the tiller instead of--<<"What do you mean ROCKET?!">> the Corellian squawks through the din of battle. Only Rieve's words bring him heart, enough to call back with a maddened sort of laugh in his voice. <<"Keep your head down, my prince! I don't wanna have to explain this to--!">> Colo's voice is caught up short as Rieve does not, in fact, keep his pretty head down. The shock of a blaster bolt catching his Hapan honor a glancing blow along the armor is enough to shake the mirth loose. <<"Cor'tur!">> Colo rushes out in his battle-trembled Hapan just before rushing to the princeling's side.

Mercifully, the wound seems...not even like a wound. Still, Colo hisses and pulls at the Hapan in order to provide a much more-armored meat-shield than before. The vaulting of their skiff, meanwhile, nearly makes him lose his lunch and dinner together.

-- Amal Ja --

As the skiff went airborne, and Amal moved from working on the system with both hands, she keyed in a few commands to keep the old ship running, ten grabbed at a piece of detritus that was trying to be a railing and launched herself sideways. The rapier that had been at her side in her off-hand whipped into its liquid form, and she used her sideways angle to snap out an attack at the secondary pilot of the boat. No pilot...meant no movement. The whip, which was not at quite the angle that she would have liked, still succeeded in wrapping around the neck of the Human, a sharp tug of her body, helped by the momentum of the skiff she was in moving, allowed her to pull the pilot bodily out of the boat, and into the water, before the whip snapped back to its owner.

-- Kademir Taerok --

There's a lot of sudden jostling around because of the ship to ship contact. Bors manages to keep it under control, so Kademir continues to work at ensuring Bors can continue to do such. He's almost tuned all the distractions out in order to pull this feat of binary shredding off. He takes half a second to turn visor on Bors, trying to parse? oh a compliment. <"This one laid the groundwork."> He jerks his head towards Amal.

Oh. Right. FOCUS! Tappity Tappity. Idly he wonders if he should play some music in his helmet, but if Dad finds out? It'll be much PT for Kade. So. Much. PT. He focuses on other means taking a brief moment. <"Hey little buddy climb lower, between my armor and the jetpack ok?" The little BD unit folds itself in place and clamps back on the best it can.

Amal continues her skill, but breaks forth the chain-whip! There's a bright-eyed expression on his fanged face, but it's hidden by his helmet. <"Hey Lady!"> He forgot Amal's name in the excitement of the moment. He calls forth in his youthful exuberance. <"Think we could spar sometime?! I have one too!!">

The other skiff tries interrupting some more, and Kade holds the datapad in his left hand for his right to snap down, unholster his E-11 and blast the Quarren almost casually...in the face. Adding further injury and insult, it lights the Quarren on fire too, no less with incendiary ammunition. Kademir's vox sounds aggrieved <"Do you MIND? I am trying to have a conversation here and get a dueling partner!!">

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael was grinning a bit at the poor unfortunate soul that was the pilot of the other ship... And then he's getting shot at with a blaster bolt slamming into his leg he grunts, "Crap. They shot me!" And fancy maneuvers are going on the skiff is in the air then back in the sludgy water before he stares at the Quarren that shot him, "That was not nice there..." The X-8 comes up and a trio of blaster bolts fly towards the Quarren in eerie silence the first one glancing off the shield but the second one might have impacted the shied but had enough force to launch the Quarren from the other skiff.

-- Rieve Selki --

Rieve is drawn against Colo as he sweeps in to save him from his own bravado, standing there at the fore! In full view of all enemy sights like some revolutionary warrior atop a barricade. His arm drapes about Colo's shoulders for support, oh the Hapan is indeed wounded! Le wince! Such pain! Such nobility. "MY DEAR ANTAGONISTS! HAVE WE NOT SPILT TOO MUCH BLOOD OF VARYING HUES THIS DAY? SURRENDER! TURN TAIL! WE 'AVE ZE UPPER 'AND DO WE NOT? MOURN YOUR DEAD, TEND TO YOUR WOUNDED. LET US PREVAIL AND WE SHALL LOWER OUR WEAPONS OUI?" The very demand rings out, bolstered by the support of Colo at his side.

"Aaaah mon cur! I've been shot." His gaze dips to view the scorch mark on his armour. "It stings a little..." A sniff follows, theatric and pondersome as he lifts his visored gaze to Colo and grins. "Exciting no? This must be how the pirates of our planet felt as they sailed the very seas, before plying their trade amidst the stars." A sigh, wistful and oh is that an overly theatric wince? It could well be! A faint fitful shudder of such winsome pain as he leans against Colo and gasps softly. "Cor'tur!" Though his weapon is indeed lowered even as he shouts forth his demand and settles against a Colo for support. The wounded Hapan hero. The brave and the blue. "I do hope it doesn't leave a mark, I've been too beautiful for too long."

-- Cadogan West --

What does he mean rocket? Cadogan hollers back, "I MEAN THE BLOODY ROCKET, WHAT ELSE WOULD I-" The banter is interrupted as the skiff goes airborne. "Ah, drek -" he mutters, abruptly hanging on as they fly past the rival ship. He has a weightless moment of hoping the skiff survives landing, before the junker crashes back to the surface.

"HA, haha!" the lean gunhand cackles aloud, adding a wordless hoot, before looking back to note their rivals have lost another pilot. Rieve makes his elegant appeal, and Cadogan follows it up with a crass, "And if'n ye lot follow after, you'll catch a REKKING rocket for it, yeah?"

-- Maelstrom --

It is horrifically glorious just how expertly the crew of Misfortune's Favor are synergizing. This rag-tag group of treature-getting hopefuls who not twenty minutes ago bought this wreck from an old hag at Ol'Pickery and took off for wonders unknown! Meeting their foes in aquatic battle to erase the driver and send the navigator and a gunman into the dark green and brown waters never to emerge again.

The two remaining, the twi'lek engineer and a four-armed gunwoman, are faced with a dilemna. Zim is already fighting with the controls while Seneo is greedily setting her crosshairs on the Echani who yeeted her friend into murky oblivion.

But they have rockets. They. Have. Rockets. Not to mention expert fighters and a LITERALLY insane pilot who is jumping off ramps in a tin can for kicks! They exchange looks for all of two seconds before Zim growls audible. "RRRRG! Rekk this!"

Plunder Blunder lives up to its legendary name, skirting a hard U-Turn and racing back the way they came. The way is clear for Misfortune's Favor to win the day!

Or so it would seem.

-- Bors Thul --

The foeman turn tail and Lord Bors cannot help but feel a pang for the sudden lacking of competition. Using one hand to keep him somewhat steady when he turns to answer Kademir's explanation with a thumbs up, what with all the noise and shouting already going on. A nod to Amal follows and the noble shifts hands and turns the other way to look to the hitch-hiker picked up earlier,

<"Who'se an adorabLAAAAHHH!"> trying to coo to what he is certain Ulani will absolutely love to see hop-splatting around their portion of the Manor, when its tongue hits his faceplate dead center and it latches onto the side of his turning helmet, forcing his stance to become awkward and off-balance. The fat, slimy, amphibian mouthing the side of his head and its tongue 'thwapping' around, caught between its own lips and his helmet.

<"Yes... Overjoyed she shall be!">

Interceptor pilots, man. I tell you.

-- Colo Nell --

The Hapan's cri de coeur surges straight to Colo's heart. Too much blood! Too many blasters! Almost enough rocket! Cadogan's rumbling holler shakes the Corellian free but a half-moment from his half-rage, half-swoon caring for Rieve, his felled prince. <<"The rocket! That's right. The ROCKET!">> Colo bluffs right back, hissing and spitting, which would go better if not for the fact he's just spit into his helmet. Somehow, the extra moisture manages to steel his resolve, or at least lubricate it. With Rieve cradled to him, he fully supports the brave diplomatic effort to save some lives.

The Blunderers clear out and Colo's left beaming and looking around at the whip-wielding Amal to whom he nods his thanks; then to the careful-shooting Kael and Kademir to boot. <<"I think we can stop blasting them now. Look!">> He gestures with his own, still-extant and barely-fired weapon as the Plunderers retreat.

So done, Colo breathes another sigh of relief and settles back, Hapan-hunkered, leaving the piloting to their insane, High-Falutin' interceptor Bors and doing his level best to ensure the scorch mark of Rieve's ego is tended to. <<"Cor'tur, you are as brave as any Corellian corsair of old and twice as pretty,">> The Corellian assures, albeit with a smirk behind his helmet as he adds: <<"Half as handsome, though.">>

-- Amal Ja --

"You may call me Jha. I am no Lady." being that she was indeed female, it was quite likely that Amal meant it in the figurative sense. "Yes, we may spar." All said as though this were a run of the mill day, on a run of the mill planet. Which, given the circles that Amal ran in, was...very likely the truth. She di, however, right herself as the boat came back down, and at least half of their problems were solved. "Never trust the stillness." Amal, though, rather than looking out, turned her attention to trying to manage a few repairs to the skiff. They yet needed it a while. She worked as she had done since the adventure began, in concern with the armored mandalorian, the pair managing to effect a few repairs to the skiff's systems. "It is really too bad it has to be us. I know a phenomenal mechanic. I should have paid him to join us."

-- Kademir Taerok --

With the rest of the targets of opportunity either dead or fleeing with the other skiff, Kademir holsters the E-11 along his thigh once more. The thumbs up gets a return nod. His head bobbing seems to work well as primary communication it seems. Definitely he did not turn some music on in his helmet, he has a habit of headbanging while working. There is blinking behind the visor as Bors has a strange hitchhiker. Hopefully that's not an amphibious mating ritual.

<"I'm always up for some blasting though."> is the response to Colo with some muted-excitement. He's trying hard to be a good professional, make a gret impression, and do the parents good. Amal speaks! There is intentional nodding. <"Well. Miss seemed. Uh..."> Youth has disadvantages sometimes. Moving on! <"Jha it is, and OUTSTANDING!"> Her agreement to sparring pleases the young Shistavanen. He does turn to focus on the task at hand. Seeing her struggle a little. <"Hey I think if we tweak that wiring there, and I play with this routing here."> He gestures for Amal where he means, and goes back to tapping to execute his side of the work at hand. What could possibly go wrong now?

-- Kael Greystorm --

Kael's looking around as the other crew run off before he reholsters his pistol and pokes at his leg a bit, "I think there's somethin movin? I can't tell the pain is kinda distraction anybody able to give me a little patchin up? I suppose I could try I think I got some bacta in my medpac."

-- Rieve Selki --

"I was shot, oui, a glancing blow." Rieve states to Kael as he himself, the Hapan, remains oh so cradled. Rieve laughs at Colo's compliment and exhales a steady breath as he gazes out across the murky depths. "You've all served so well, this crew is truly blessed!" A glance to each and all, a nod, a little Hapan-salute of respect to those who have carried each and all as one this far. Why the Hapan settles neatly against Colo and for once, is at ease, true ease! There's no one shooting at him, there's no one seeking to kill him. It's easy to be at ease here and now. Though even still, Rieve leans forward and eyes the waters ahead. He can't see much of a muchness, but he does pause and tilt his head towards the murk ahead. "You know... I think I 'ear something?" The very words muttered to Cadogan and Colo. "I do... I do hear somethin'." That Hapan accent drifts carefully, softly, not daring to ruin what his senses tell him. "Everyone..."

The word is spoken sharply, crisply, the word carries itself with such brisk authority of a noble heritage denied. "I HEAR SOMETHING, WE ARE NOT ALONE MY FRIENDS! We are truly amidst the ariag'nee oui?" A glance is given those at the rear. "Stay sharp! My 'apan ears do not often deceive." That rifle is raised once more, poised...

-- Cadogan West --

Cadogan West holsters his pistol as the Blunders retreat. "I got t'get a real rocket some place," he mutters. Colo gets a dry look aside. "Aye, no more need. Besides: the one wit four arms was a bit of a looker, yeah?" He checks the bandolier of grenades, to make sure none were knocked loose in the skiff's flight and landing, narrow blue eyes pulled by some half-glimpsed bulk beneath the dark waters. "Uh.. That. Looks big. An it might've just moved. HEY, GOV: WE MIGHT HAVE A TAIL," he calls to Bors, over the sound of the engines trying to fall apart. A rapid pair of nods to Rieve, and he braces for whatever happens next...

-- Maelstrom --

Misfortune's Favor makes it to an open space of the Grot; somewhere the upper levels either haven't collapsed into the mire or it's deep enough here that it does not pose an immediate threat. This is an opportunity to breathe, to tend to wounds, to patch up the boat, to get the controls under heel.

In this stillness as Plunder's Blunder continues to speed off in the opposite direction, there is an uneasiness that weighs heavily in the waters. Mixed with the stench and the grime of Nar Shaddaa's worst dumping grounds, something... somethings stir.

The thick liquid of the Grot reveals no secrets until it is utterly too late. In the near distance, barely making headway with only two people trying to wrangle the unruly beast of their ship, the rival ship sputters and dies; the engine cut and Zim trying desperately to get it back up. Seneo seems panicked, screaming something but it cannot be heard.

Then.

A burst of water, a GRIIIIIIND of metal, a sickening PLORP of suction into the depths. The Plunder's Blunder is gone and something very big and very fast starts racing towards the Favor and its crew who are already racing away with a head start.

Yet whatever it is... gains.