Log:Hutt Cartel: A Simple Repossession
A debt is owed. A debt is collected.
OOC Date: March 27, 2024
Location: Lothal
Participants: Amal Jha, Qar-duun, Borgol the Hutt as GM, The Hutt Cartel
Lothal has had a lot of time to heal and it's in part thanks to the efforts of those who have sought to rejuvenate the lands of it following the strife that scarred its surface.
To the south and west the forests have made a resurgence and on the fringe of those same forests. A small colony that barely rates being called a hamlet by most galactic standards has been established in the metaphorical No Man's Land between old Imperial mining efforts and the renewal of nature's vitality. The placement of this colony is clearly intended to take advantage of the forest and revival of life on Lothal, but also to aid in its expansion and reclaiming of the industry-scarred landscape to the north and east.
A pair of landspeeders hum along the rolling hills and broken once war torn landscape. To the west a group of prefab dwellings and meager farmland can be see from atop one of those rolling hills. The Hutt Cartel has come and even from the couple hundred yards distant, it's obvious that the occupants of the village expected it. Many can be seen from afar rushing to seek some place to tuck themselves away, hide, or otherwise get out of sight on this beautiful late morning.
Those that don't seem to be scurrying about seem to be well armored and well equipped. Mercenaries, perhaps. The three of them seem to be arrayed on the edge of the hamlet's footprint, awaiting the arrival of the pair of land speeders.
Amal was not an easy target to miss, all things considered. She sat at the front of one of the speeders, for one, and she wore that oddly glaringly white attire for a second. She carried no visible weapons, however, nor did she appear to be yelling orders to the...members, retainers, lackeys? The other members of the Hutt Cartel in the speeder with her. She was, entirely, content to wait to see what would be as they approached.
Qar-duun, masked and visored against the threat of anything like tear-gas, awaits his turn in the fight with frosty silence. If he's here for anything other than an excuse to make mayhem, at least he's waiting in good order-- no sense perturbing the Hutts, even for a Sith...
Miles to the northeast a transport ship awaits. Intended to sweep in and collect the merchandise only after the area is secured. For now a pair of speeders bearing the Hutt Cartel's appointed representatives make their approach on the hamlet's perimeter. An Echani that speaks with the voice of a Hutt Lord, an altogether unknown Zabrak with green skin and a crown of straight horns, and a Duros named Xius Lawsin acts as the driver of the speeder which they occupy. In the second speeder a Human and Chadra-Fan sit, following on the left flank of the first speeder.
The speeders glide to a halt and from behind the row of three armored and armed mercenaries a hunched elderly woman steps forward, idly gumming at nothing as she lifts a hand in greeting to the pair of speeders and their occupants before they've even dismounted from them. The mercenaries remain still and watchful; one might note that they possess reasonably expensive, well-maintained equipment.
As the elderly woman - the leader of the colonists - approaches without venturing too far from the mercenaries, her voice old and frail, "If you're here from the Hutts, we have no quarrel with you, but we need more time.." [Language: Huttese]
Miles to the northeast a transport ship awaits. Intended to sweep in and collect the merchandise only after the area is secured. For now a pair of speeders bearing the Hutt Cartel's appointed representatives make their approach on the hamlet's perimeter. An Echani that speaks with the voice of a Hutt Lord, an altogether unknown Zabrak with green skin and a crown of straight horns, and a Duros named Xius Lawsin acts as the driver of the speeder which they occupy. In the second speeder a Human and Chadra-Fan sit, following on the left flank of the first speeder.
The speeders glide to a halt and from behind the row of three armored and armed mercenaries a hunched elderly woman steps forward, idly gumming at nothing as she lifts a hand in greeting to the pair of speeders and their occupants before they've even dismounted from them. The mercenaries remain still and watchful; one might note that they possess reasonably expensive, well-maintained equipment.
As the elderly woman - the leader of the colonists - approaches without venturing too far from the mercenaries, her voice old and frail, "If you're here from the Hutts, we have no quarrel with you, but we need more time.."
Amal, stepping down from the speeder once it came to a halt, flicked her duster around herself, settling the garment, as though it were a necessary part of the ritual. If the residents of this humble hamlet believed that they would be spared, or looked at with sympathy, simply because they had chosen one of their most vulnerable as their Voice, there was no trace of any such emotion in the Echani's voice. Of course, Amal, being, well, only Echani, had neither the presence of body nor the resonance of voice of the Lord in whose name she spoke, but there was some echo of it there regardless, "Time is not the commodity in which you are trading today. Your people will begin gathering in the center of the village for retrieval."
Qar-duun sets foot on the world's gravel, which submits to his weight with a satisfying *crackle* beneath his bootheels. He rises, flicking the switch on his chosen sidearm to 'STUN,' telegraphing the same bargainless intent as the rest of the enforcers...
"Retrieval?" the wizened woman asks with obvious surprised as she takes a feeble half-step back from the Hutt Cartel's enforcers. There's fear to go with the surprised etched into the deeply wrinkled face of the sun darkened skin of the village elder. The half-step back seems to be some unspoken cue for the trio of mercenaries who step forward, quickly forming a living shield between the old woman and the Cartel's people.
The center mercenary speaks up, his helmet lifting as he speaks through a vocorder that transmits his voice to the world-at-large, "I think it's time for you all to leave."
The whine of a blaster being unsafed can be heard, followed by two more as the mercenaries look over the gathering of Cartel thugs, "You can walk out of here or you can get buried here. Your call."
The mercenaries don't seem to be ready to yield and judging by their equipment they're a fairly pricey bunch. Funds that surely could have been given to the Hutts. Then again all funds are best delivered into the hands of the Hutts, right?
Qar-duun's sneer is audible from beneath his faceplate, but his attempt to silence one of the hamlet's "protectors" is, perhaps, guided more by malice than practice. He may yet default to the hilt at his hip or (if his gorge rises to its fullest,) perhaps engage them hand-to-hand! Rage... rising... !
"A debt is owed. A debt is being collected." Amal did not say 'It's just good business,' but considering that this was Borgol they were speaking of, did she really have to? She did, to be personable, allow the mercenary to make his speech, because far be it from her to stop a man from pontificating, but she did not offer a reply to him. Instead, her words were directed towards the old woman, "This was your choice," she offered the woman, "Remember that." And then the echani moved, all fluid grace and deadly intent as a pair of blades seemed to materialize in her hands and she struck forward, cutting down one of the mercenaries where he stood, not leaving time to watch him bleed the rest of the way out before she eliminated a second. A third strike pushed back but did not hit a third, as her boot came down to crush the chest of the one bleeding but not quite dead. Stay down. or perhaps...prepare to become a springboard.
A pair of mercenaries fall and their third grabs the elderly woman, pulling her back and away from the Cartel thugs as he begins to fire his blaster toward Amal and her approach.
The fighting seems to have been the signal for an ambush because from behind prefab shelters, farming equipment, and even from beneath a couple fighting holes concealed beneath earthy brown tarps mercenaries spring into the fight. For the moment the mercenaries seem to hold the upperhand in terms of sheer numbers and the amount of blaster rifle sizzling through the air in the direction of the Cartel enforcers acts as a testament to that fact.
For the moment the blaster fire appears more suppressive and less accurate; which is likely a boon for the Cartel's enforcers.
Whether Amal expected the ambush or not, was not something she commented on or responded to, for now. Instead, she Flowed forward, blades cutting down the mercenary who had tried to shield the old woman, a graceful kick directing his body to fall away from her, before she flipped one of the blades, bringing it down on the woman's temple, dropping her into immediate unconsciousness. And if that left her as the most immediate target of the ambush, well, she had been there before. "Begin to move in, round up the chattel."
Qar-duun launches himself via the Force at the line of buildings, hoping to intimidate them into routing! "Surrender now, it's less painful! Or don't!" he barks.
Back and forth blaster bolts slash through the air. If it were night the immediate area would be a light show of many different colors. Unfortunately it's an hour before noon and therefore the sun eradicates much of the potential for colorful theatrics.
Among the prefab structures Qar-duun leaps and seeks to send many a mercenary meandering in the opposite direction. Unfortunately they hold fast and begin firing inaccurate blaster fire in the direction of the powerful leaper.
Amal becomes the target of a pair of mercenaries, seeking to drive her away from the elderly woman no doubt. Thankfully their shots fail to strike Amal. Less thankfully their enthusiasm for shooting the Echani results in the elderly village leader being shot while she lay unconscious on the ground. She awakens wailing in pain and clutching at the blaster burn across her hip, so she's alive at least.
The Cartel enforcers begin to surge forward, following in the wake of both Amal Jha and Qar-duun. Their own blasters spit pain and death, with one of the mercenaries slumping down in his fighting hole and another that was firing from a prefab shelter's window crumpling away from said window when his armored chest takes a blaster bolt to it.
If she was screaming, she was still alive. Hence, still useful chattel. Amal left the old woman to her pain, and the consequences of her choices, as she waded in with the rest of the Cartel contingent, cornering two of the mercenaries as they tried to escape the overhang of the building, likely to try to get a better angle on her. If you stopped to ask her, she might comment that they were very poor fighters if they could not hit an unarmed woman, but, that was now her way. Her blades flashed, the crimson fire of the energy fields blending with the rest of blood as she cut them both down, before she pivoted, marking the next closest targets.
Qar-duun, furious at being downplayed (no matter how present and scarlet a threat Amal is,) ignites his lightsaber and begins swinging, taking his anger out in sidelong chops and repeated *bats* of mercenaries he's adjudged as 'insufficiently grateful for their miserable lives.' He stalks among them, saber *whirling!*
A pair attempt to scramble away from Amal as she rushes into their vicinity, utilizing farm equipment to prevent their gunning her down too easily. Meanwhile she has little trouble cutting down the pair of rookie mercenaries, whose cries of terror are swiftly silenced under the wrathful hands of a Hutt's most prized wraith.
The snap and hiss of a white beam leaps forth and Qar-duun closes swiftly with his own pair of mercenaries, batting one of them in the armored shoulder. The strike rolls from the armored pauldron and onto the body glove sheathed upper armor of the mercenary. A shout of pained surprise erupts from the mercenary when the unfamiliar glowing rod strikes him. This causes his partner to skitter away and, seeing Amal cut down two of their own, he takes a moment to snap a shot off at the Echani enforcer. Which misses.
Meanwhile an exchange of gunfire between the hamlet's defenders and the other Cartel thugs finds a lot of missed shots, save for those taken by Xius Lawsin. Judging by the burbling erupting from the Durosian woman each time she guns down one of the hamlet's mercenaries, she's quite amused at watching them drop like flies around her.
Amal was nothing if not efficient. She had seen enough death to be able to mark the dead and pay them no more mind. The sound of the snap-hiss of an unfamiliar weapon shifted her focus and she tkk off at a run, moving away from where the Cartel heavies seemed to be enjoying themselves, blaster fire seeming to end up everywhere but hitting her person. A flash of blades and one of the bodies near the Zabrak went down, blood flowing from the second, though he was not down and out. Amal did not have to kill everything She was happy to leave that one for the blade wielding Qar-duun's retribution.
Qar-duun brings the lightsaber down *again* and *again,* crackling dramatically as he vents his rage on this... particularly unfortunate mercenary. "Stay down or I'll feed you to her," he instructs the soldier, *chinning* at Amal and her... gruesome... support-work.
Another falls beneath the skillful death-dealing of Amal Jha. Another falls at the hands of Qar-duun and the stunning saber that he dispenses with copious, wrathful strikes. The armored humanoid tries to move, but largely fails outside of some simple twitching. The helmet that he wears prevents seeing the look of fear that Qar-duun can feel the mercenary exude.
Meanwhile the mercenaries and other Cartel enforcers continued to exchange fire - sometimes at point blank range - and in some cases even land telling blows! Another pair of mercenaries fall and this soon leaves only one left.
It may be a credit to that single remaining mercenary. He - or she - doesn't seem ready to give up, instead moving and firing as they begin to withdraw toward the center of the hamlet.
"I do not see any retrieval teams moving in," Amal offered, as she began to move, tracking the retreating mercenary, though the path towards them was not clear. It took a bit of jumping and leaping as she moved, to get her to where she might be able to close the distance. Her tone held the slightest edge of disapproval. There were chattel waiting to be collected.
Qar-duun's arcing, superhumanly-enhanced leap lands him *on* the man's ride out. "Yes, hello. Turn back and submit? The alternative is my colleague, so..." He waves his lightsaber, in a catty sort of 'go on, toddle off now...'
Amal is hot on the trail of the remaining mercenary. Qar-duun leaps ahead, lands atop the mercenary's swoop bike. A witty remark later and the mercenary lifts their blaster pistol to fire off a wide shot at the Zabrak.
Which is precisely when Xius, Jonith, and Wrassa open up on the mercenary in unison. In a brutal display of Cartel justice the mercenary is practically lit aflame as they're struck by a sudden torrent of blaster fire. The mercenary crumples to the well tread ground, sizzling and reeking of ozone after the volley concludes.
It's only a moment or two after the last blaster shot is made that the occupants of the hamlet begin to peep their heads through doorways and windows. Their look of hope is swiftly dashed, turning instead to fear and despair. Their plan to take a stand against the Hutt's aggressive lending practices has failed.
It isn't long before the first transport arrives with the whine of sublight engines and repulsors powering down on the western perimeter of the village. It isn't long after that more and more of the Cartel's assets arrive.
By nightfall there will be nothing left of the hamlet save for a few burnt out structures, confiscated property, an abundance of 'livestock' ushered into a pair of transports, and anything of value stripped of the place. What was once a small-but-thriving colony has within the span of a day become a burnt out husk that reeks of fear, despair, anguish, and sadness to those who may feel the influence of the Force.
For everyone else it's just a testament to why you don't try to cheat a Hutt. Or their Cartel.
