Log:Mandalore: The Wasteland Way - Beyond the Horizon

Mandalore: The Wasteland Way - Beyond the Horizon

OOC Date: June 2, 2021 (Optional)
Location: Mandalore
Participants: Hahtavi, Avery Ihala Kora, Evie Leven, Valeska Jaivon, Terek Rosol and Hadrix Kora as GM Clan Kora Mandalorian

Strength is life. Death is life. Two tenants of the ancient Canons of Honor - ideas that have long evolved into unfortunate realities above the others. Honor is Life; but now more often only within one's own clan. Loyalty is Life; perhaps for those who hold enough power to sway others to extend such to them.

The Fortress at Jate'kar'kyorla is holed, sections of the walls now little more than slag that melted to interesting shape - the gates are fused and bent half over. The dead are stripped of their goods and set to let the sun deal with them now that they've been deposited over the edge of a cliff into a gorge. Weapons, armor, equipment - all distributed around.

Mofa-Ki of Saiwali is gone and Zatti has claimed his place - the singular sail barge and half dozen skiffs of the clan being prepped with equipment, supplies and salvage while Wazzum and Bazza are forced to look upon the wreck of their home. One might expect reticence to keep their trust with the expedition. Hostility for certain. But despite the tragedy they all still stand. They all still have a choice.

So the expedition has been called to speak with the leaders of the clans, to prepare their next move under the crash and rumble of durasteel being pulled down. Alongside the quiet murmurs of denial charges being set. Called to stand on the deck of the sail barge where there was some modicum of security to speak.

Don't get off the barge. Don't get off the barge. Don't get off the kriffing barge.

Valeska has traded out her pistol today for some heaiver machinery. A carbine nestled in both hands and a sniper rifles strapped to her back that may or may not get used. Distance, it would seem, has been her first issue. Firepower being the second. Third? Drawing fire like nobody's business. She paces around the aft of the barge, glancing out over the sands to see... more sand.

Mental note: ask Hahtavi /again/ why they are fighting for this planet. His previous explanation seems suddenly and increasingly insufficient.

It seems odd to be gathering here to speak with the leaders of the allied clans without Sumi. But the Alor is presumably up on the Corvette and engaged with other duties. So it is that Hahtavi has left his kimogila and come up onto the large sail barge to take his place with the others. He is one of the few associated with the Koras who hasn't yet been injured.

He stands quietly now, watchful, wearing his helm at least until those gathered are to begin to speak. His fighter is landed and camoflaged near by. Hahtavi turns his head to see who all is able to gather for the Koras and Concord Dawn, knowing several had to be taken up to the moon to be seen by the surgeon.

Ah, Avery and Valeska have at least made it back. He watches Valeska even now pacing back and forth at the rear of the barge.

Politics has always bored Terek. He was never interested in it back on Cathar and he's decidedly not interested in it here.

Who's in charge of what scrap of land doesn't matter to him. But he has a duty, and so he is here. Sitting near the edge of the barge, looking out over the distance, wondering if the repeated attacks will cease soon, or if they'll have to kill them down to the last man.

Avery stretches his left arm, testing the newly healed muscles and flesh. There's a slight pull but nothing too terrible that would suggest anything other than a full recovery. Besides, he wasn't even the one hit the most, that distinction falls on Valeska, whom he stands near. He stands close for just in case reasons... those reasons being, like the days before, as aerial transport for the woman. <"We really need to get you a rocket pack."> He states quietly to her, his eyes scanning over the gathered group before shifting to the gleaming sands beyond.

Like her, his armor was repaired from the abuse it took yesterday, the fresh patch job not having been painted yet to blend into the rest of his armor. Thus he stands proudly with what amounts to a outlander paint job, looking like a mottled Mandalorian. He taps a button to switch to comms, broadcasting to their group at large. <<"How's everyone doing on this, what will most likely turn out to be, murderous day?"

<"The mountain is laughable as a defense point."> Zatti, ornately armored with his shriek-hawk relief embossed on his cuirass comments without preamble as others close in to the point where this meeting is being held. The hook cannon captured being used to pull down the walls of the fortress for salvaging, rather than assault, now, causing a thunderous din in the background.

<"It worked fine until we had attention."> Ca snorts, the narrowing of her eyes palpable behind her screen visor, but cut off before she can continue by the new Alor of Saiwali who speaks as Bitr, Ca and some of those others gathered turn to look briefly to Avery.

<"You and Bitr, in that mountain, you were waiting to be assaulted. Fortunate that Concord Dawn sent their expedition. Like as we'd be picking over your bones once the Blackthumbs and the Ori'Ramikade were finished with you. Or the Smoke-Walkers.">

Hadrix's stare is a touch longer, but without Sumi here it falls to him to take up at least part of her job while she scouts... or does whatever it is Sumi has deemed she needed to attend today.

<"A caravan can't work for what Concord Dawn wants - so we need suggestions of where to scout. People willing to take point, or whatever else can be forwarded before we get another war party out here."> the big man turning to look to Hahtavi, <"You're native... Even if a decade expatriated... Any place you'd suggest?">

<"I'm going to move to a planet where every ceiling is no more than ten feet high after this."> Valeska answers back. <"Single-story houses. Low atmospheric threshhold and keep my feet on the ground for a month."> From here, she can feel the space-flying heart of her father shattering with every word. It's not so much the heights that bother her when it comes to jetpacks, but she's not used to experiencing the g-forces directly into her squishy body. And lets not forget they apparently sputter and die when you least want them do. Which is never. You never want them to.

The meeting is carrying on among Clan Leaders butting heads. Politics. She was never good at politics. Only good at knowing which way they were coming from and walking as far away as possible. So, Valeska isn't really paying attention until Hahtavi's name is mentioned. At least now, she's got an ear open listening curiously for his answer.

In the meantime, she lets the carbine swing at her side and pulls up the sniper rifle: looking down the scope and idly scanning the horizon.

Hahtavi listens to the leaders speaking, then turns his head slightly towards Hadrix. He reaches up a gloved hand to remove his helm, showing a scarred face that never knew batca when he'd been living on Mandalore, just like the finger he'd lost was never regrown. "Al'verde Hadrix is right. Nomadic ways have their uses but they can't hold ground without a stronghold." He frowns, turning his gaze further to look at the battered mountain here, "There is a place further south on the edge of the ka'gaht Ori'vhekad. Do any of you know what has become of Shuk'la Shereshoy Keldab, once held by clan Shad'hain?"

There is a pause to read their reactions, whatever they may be. "There is, or used to be a bral there, an ancient, many layered place of stone walls and high precipices by the dead sea. But I have been away these past ten years and I know not what welcome we might find there now."

A frown tugs at his scarred face, "This place may yet be rebuilt with deep, layered stone but it will take time. We might at least draw off some of the preassure to buy that time?" His grey eyes slip over them and back to Hadrix to see what his thoughts might be, "Might be time for that recon we discussed?"

Terek continues to scan the horizon for now, though all he manages to see is a lot of sand. He's listening to the conversation, hard not to when you've got cat ears, but most of it means nothing to him.

Though when he thinks about it, the same thing would happen if he was discussing his home with another Cathar and there were several Mandalorians around, they wouldn't understand either.

There's a reason why he should never be the voice of Clan Kora and this war could very well be the biggest show of that. Avery's not very diplomatic, not in the slightest. He says what he means and oft times says WAY more than that, most of it not really being anything aside from filling space with words. However, appearances must be kept and, when the heads of the group turn to look, he simply stares back in silence.

When they turn away, he leans towards Val to speak quietly without disrupting the talks, <"So you're saying you don't enjoy throttling over large expanses of sand while being shot at by people intent on injuring you.? I am shocked, Madam... shocked."> Even through the vox, the sarcasm is thick. From there his attention drifts, shifting from her idle examination of the weapon to how the railing is bolted to the deck of the barge... is that welding, rivets, or is it just set in there. Someone really needs to check this vehicle out for safety code violations.

<"Shad'hain marches beneath the hand of Bron, the bral is now just known as the Shuk'la Vercopaanir. The Shriekers raided it three years ago. Clans Shad'hain, Llearil and Haran'kemire were decimated by the literal definition."> reduced by a tenth of their numbers. Bitr's visor turns on Hahtavi, some sympathy there, <"The Shriekers hole up there, like borats and come out to raid for meat when their stores get low.">

The lot of them look at Avery and Valeska, heads tilted to one side. No derision in their body language, just curiosity.

<"The three cast out made for a butte some kilometers easterly of the old fortress. They keep to their own, trading, sometimes they'll raid the old fort for some old equipment and when they feel up to picking up old feuds with the usurpers to that old wreck."> Zatti adds, <"We can notate a map for you.">

Hadrix's attention is piqued and a flimsi sheet is handed over to Zatti before he looks to Hahtavi and the others, interested in their opinions on this new development.

Sand. Sand sand sand. Oh! A rock! Sand sand.

Rolling her eyes the same time she rolls a shoulder, Valeska stows the rifle along her back and takes up the carbine again and elbows Avery in the ribs. Or where his ribs would be. Damned Doomseeker armour.

The brief pause in conversation gets Valeska's attention and her helmet turns to see several pairs of eyes looking at them. Squaring her shoulders, Valeska swallows whatever she's about to say in witty retort and returns to her measured pacing along the back of the barge. Surveying the sand, boss. Professional.

Evie's been pretty quiet so far, keeping her thoughts to herself. Trying to figure out the logistics of a properly defendable position. Not so much in the natural sense, but in buildings that could be manufacturerd. This is the shipwright in Evie thinking, afterall. It's probably one of the biggest reasons that she's letting the others handle the majority of the talking right now. That, and frankly? The art of a business deal and the art of more... territorial diplomacy are two very different things.

When the map is mentioned, Evie's helmet turns towards Hahtavi; the Mandalore-native's reaction is the one that she's most curious about, here.

Oh boy. That news hits him hard. Hard enough that though he'd like to keep his face unreadable and take it impassively as the stone of these southern mountain ranges, he just can't. Some of Hahtavi's color blanches from his face, tightening of his jaw, a flare of his nostrels. He doesn't loose it but he looks a little bit like somebody just punched him in the gut /really/ hard.

It takes him several long seconds before he draws a slow, deep breath and speaks. "I appreciate the intelligence." Hahtavi shifts his jaw, "That might ... possibly work even more to our advantage in the long run. But we'll need more information."

A nod to the map that Hadrix is already working on obtaining. No point asking after specific surviors. These people aren't likely to know.

Terek turns back towards the group as he sees Hahtavi's reaction, "Hm. I think it'll be our best bet." He says, finally actually adding the discussion, if only slightly, "That's probably the last thing they'll expect."

Avery grunts at the elbow in his kidney, Val's aim just a bit off from where it was intended. He too looks over at the group when the silence is noted. Apparently the mission of being quiet wasn't too successful at all and he stands up straighter at the looks that come their way. A glance is given to Val as she moves away to continue her patrol, and he continues to listen to the negotiations and recommendations. There's a tilt of his head when Hadrix looks to the rest of them for opinions and he lifts his shoulders in a light shrug. <"Sounds like they could use some help as well, don't think it'd be too much trouble to remove some house crashers."> The grey Mandalorian states, shifting in his armor a bit as the heat rises over the baking desert.

The Butte. So chosen to be scouted is some kilometers distant. Days would be spent on a long march, with carefully packed food and water. Munitions for defense and an understanding that the wastes of Mandalore might swallow them whole.

In the prospect of new allies, a new site for the outpost and answers for one of their number a Saiwali air-skiff was provided. Painted to match the sands of the desert, with durasteel mast and mast made of patchwork homespun and salvaged cloth - travel is made swifter and silent without the need of the heavy jets mounted to the back and bottom of the craft. A true sail ship to cruise over the dunes like frozen waves.

Fortunate that some of those crewing the craft are up to the notion for traveling these lands by unconventional means. Dawn gone and blistering mid-day left behind and another evening coming upon Mandalore when the shape of thrusting stone rises from scrabbly desert going to rocky hardpan running table flat save for the cracks that turn it to scales like the skin of a great beast.

In the essence of caution the airship is grounded, tucked down and the sail doubling as camouflage net - leaving the group to move on foot to the stony stump that must rise a full thirty meters up, maybe more and the side faced easily twice that number north to south.

It goes without saying that all of this is like casting pearls before Gamorreans in regards to Valeska's comprehension. She doesn't notice the listing of names. Doesn't see Hahtavi's reaction. Hadrix's voice manages to bounce into her brain and she turns to face him and the group now but offers no reply. For the first time today, she's displaying a modicum of respect. As much as she is here to aid them in their endeavours, it is absolutely not her place to voice an opinion on Mandalorian matters.

A decision is made and they set out for the multi-day journey; taking their shifts on the barge and keeping wary eyes. The fact that it was uneventful has Valeska incredibly tense now. She walks along with the group far less jovial than she was a few days ago. Her shoulders tense and the carbine held close to her. She can't see well in the dark and, apparently, doesn't know how to work any of the fancy settings on the helmet. If hers even has fancy settings. She really should look into that.

The sail barge isn't that unfamiliar to Hahtavi, as most things on this world are all too familar to him. The names and the details change but it's still the same. He may even know a small bit on how to help opporate it, the basics, but no more. He'll put himself to whatever use he may to keep busy while passing the time. Perhaps he'll even get time to speak with Valeska, whom he's been too busy to talk to since they arrived. No, Avery's had to be her protector, not he.

The days pass and Hahtavi has much to think upon. He is perhaps more quiet even than usual, watching the southern lay of the land ahead of them, wishing them to travel faster.

Once they arrive and his boots drop down onto the hardpan, he is finally on familiar home territory in the true sense of the word. The butte is familiar to him, knowing of this place and have hunted here. As the sail barge is stowed and camoflaged, Hahtavi looks up at the butte and studies it, using his helmet's low light vision and magnification optics to study it patiently.

Finally he speaks low over his coms, <<" There are several lookout nests built into hummocks of dirt and stone, about one every 15 meters. Very well hidden. No sign of movement.">> He looks back to the others, <<"Shall I hale them and see if they will speak with me?">> Bold perhaps.

Terek frowns a little bit as they look across the butte. He takes a knee, and while he could focus with his eyes, it seems that Hahtavi is doing well enough. So instead he closes his eyes and focuses with his other senses.

After a few moments, he opens his eyes and looks towards the others, <"I'm hearing a repulsor humm nearby. And something coming from towards the center of the Butte. Not sure what, sounds mechanical though."> He rises back up and looks to the group, <"We'll need to be careful.">

After an long, somewhat enjoyable, but mostly uneventful journey, Avery finds himself following the group quietly near the Butte, eyes searching the rocks and crannies for any possible ambushes. He's in a rather decent mood for having been filled full of plasma the day before, also something about helping to liberate a home from terrible bandits always puts a smile on his face.

Regardless of his mood he clutches his E-11 close, just in case there is someone who wishes to ruin their final day of travel. It has been nice not being shot at for a day or two on this miserable and hot planet, his wounds given complete and ample time to heal save the developing sand rash that may or may not be in uncomfortable places. Avery listens to Haht's comment, his eyes scanning over the lookout nests, peering deep into the shadows to see whom, if anyone, awaits there.

Evie's walking along with the rest of the group, and in typical fashion for her, she sways a bit while she walks. She bobs her head to music that only she can hear. Usually, it's not something that takes her out of the game too much, but she can't help it if that tune she heard on the holonet the other day just... refuses to get out of her head. It's so stuck in there that she almost misses the words of her comrades, even!

<<"Hu--right. Being careful is always the best idea.">> Evie agrees with Terek, cradling her rifle in her hands. Double checking to make sure that the ammo in it is, well, not running out. The last thing she wants to hear is a click when she needs to put holes in people! <<"You'd know them best. I trust your judgement.">> the latter to Hahtavi's question. Just like if they were meeting with the Sienars, she'd take the lead.

The desert quiet, other than those traces picked up by Terek, is oppressive in many ways. There's much there, but with only the flat sandy or hardpan terrain it all comes and passes as one without breakers of trees or even shrubbery to muffle some or deflect others. It all comes and rushes like a wave over the listener. That the cathar could pick up what he could in that soft cacophony is testament to his ears.

Barely picked up for his helmet to emit, Hadrix is... well singing. It's not expert, barely enough knowledge to keep in key, as much as a man with a voice as gravel and glass as he has can manage. <"Ah, for just one time I would take the Spinward Spacelane, to find the hand of Fahn'liin reaching for the Beyoor Nebula. Tracing one weaving line through space so savage and wild... To make a Spinward Route to the Wild.">

At least until others speak up; Hahtavi making his offer to call out to the Butte and Terek's addition. He hasn't taken the helmet off for days. Not since that first night at the fireside, just lifts for a bite or a drink before it's back to business. Even before he was a Mandalorian he was used to weeks like this. His helmet-beard must be absolutely horrendous by now, not to mention his hair.

The massive long rifle comes out, butt hooked under his arm in a wing likely picked up from Sumi, <"Everyone be ready to return fire and ba'slan shev'la, if this goes wrong..."> strategic disappearance. <"I see at least one long arm barrel out of one of those humps Hahtavi saw."> helmet mostly to one side and looking towards the sand for all appearances, utilizing helmet sensors.

Hahtavi unslings his rifle as well and checks the charge. People on Mandalore won't take it poorly if you come bearing weapons in hand even when wanting to speak peacefully. It's just the way things are, here. He walks on out a small distance and then stops, putting his vocoder volume up so that it may carry as clearly as a shout with a hand up to his mouth, while his hands in fact remain upon his rifle now clipped to his tactical harness. Forgive him, Val, but Hahtavi swaps entirely to speaking fluently in Mando'a in his native dialec.

"Oya! Te bral! Cuyir ogir tos be aliit Llearil su oyayc? Ni cuy' Llearil! Ni Ru'kel jorhaa'ir meh gar Kelir jorhaa'ir!" Oya! The butte! Are there those of clan Llearil still alive? I am Llearil! I would speak if you will speak!

He waits, watchful and damned well aware that he may draw blaster fire or worse from their best sharpshooters. Hahtavi stands there in far, far better armor than anyone on the butte is likely to have seen in their life time, gleaming darkly in the scant light of the desert night with his kimogila skin cloak and jetpack.

<"Jorhaa'ir nakar'mir'Llearil. Gar taabir ti akaan'tsad. Vi arasuumir'prudiise "> Speak, unknown Llearil. You march with a war party. We'll remain in shadows.

No sounds of weapons, no weapons. But the silence grows more tense with the sensation of watching eyes and perhaps a calculations of the potential spoils to come.

Valeska reaadies her weapon though doesn't draw it to aim just yet. No sense in giving any prying eyes itching trigger fingers. As Hahtavi pulls away from the group, Valeska brings the carbine up in a more ready stance but still not yet aiming directly at the butte. She has no idea what Hahtavi is saying, but he had made his intentions clear to hail anyone inside. Question is: is there anyone inside? Follow up: friend or foe?

Hahtavi gets an answer. Whatever it is. She watches the rocky structure for any kind of movement and, for the moment, fails to see anything. Doesn't mean it isn't there. Just means she didn't see it and she is aware of this fact.

<"I see the sniper."> Terek says, as he scans across, spotting the one that Hadrix was mentioning, <"And a spotter. Looks like someone else is there too, low profile. Could be a second sniper, or a heavy gunner."> He pulls his pistol on his hip and readies his jetpack just in case.

Avery lowers his carbine to point at the ground, his eyes scanning the cliffside for any movement once Haht speaks his peace. He really wishes he knew more Mando'a, more studying seems to be in order. His gaze drifts over to Valeksa, wondering exactly what she might be thinking, being drawn into this world of war, sand, heat, and hatred. The clans of Mandalore are savage beyond anything he's ever known, even in the roughest days of the First Order, there was still a manner of civility when dealing with the terrorists. This is just... destruction to prove the size of one's.... guns.

A response is given and Avery looks to the rest of the crew, some lowering their guns, others clutching them tighter, most all looking anxious, even in body language. It's not his place to speak, he doesn't know these people, nor could he put things as eloquently as the others. As already noted, Avery shouldn't speak for the Clan.

Evie seems to be taken out of her daze after a few moments, but doesn't say too much. Instead, she looks towards Hahtavi, looks back in the direction of the voice... and shrugs to herself. Her rifle is raised up, and in a show of good faith or foolishness ( Hint: It's good faith. She's not disarmed. ), slings the weapon back across her back.

<<"They're giving him the chance to speak,">> Evie translates for those in the group who don't speak the language, having been able to pick up enough to understand.

<<"Ni cuy' Hahtavi Llearil be Shuk'la Shereshoy Keldab, jii tal'at'cuyir at aliit kora. Ni olaror ti tomade tion'ad Ru'kel hiibir norac meg sa echoy'la!">> 'I am Hahtavi Llearil of Shuk'la Shereshoy Keldab, now Blood to Be to clan Kora. I come with allies who would take back what as lost.'

Hahtavi keeps his place, standing apart and where those in the high nests can see him, Galaar rifle in his gloved hands. He continues on in Mando'a, <<" We represent the Journeyman Protectors from Concord Dawn who would build alliances and expand the security of Vroxx Canyon into the southlands. Are there those among you who would parlay, who desire to take back Shuk'la Shereshoy Keldab from the Shriekers with allies to back you? ">>

Somebody, perhaps Evie, could be translating for Valeska's benefit, and the benefit of anyone else among them that doesn't know Mando'a fluently.

<"That place is just poor memories, blood and tears. Shriekers have it, have tainted it. The walls are runs for their tunnels, the sand soaked in screams and bones."> another voice comes, more authoritative. <"You stand at the base of Kyr'yc Yaim"> Last Home <"Shuk'la Vercopaanir"> Broken Hope <"Is gone, Hahtavi Llearil. We stand with Bron here. We build our vheh'yaim and we rebuild on fortified ground. Three years we've held since we were driven. We stand here now.">

A figure appears, risking being skylined and easy target, pointing down the long ways with a massive scavenge metal beskad, <"Tell us your names, so that we can remember. Bron will have tasks, as his like always have. Then we can trust - and you'll see what has become of the old home."> head canting to the side, the armored figure waits, looking from figure to figure.

If she were asked, Valeska would certainly have her opinions on being here. She's voiced them a few times, but those were more petty complaints. Now she understood the stakes a bit more and while the long history of Mandalore has yet to come up, she has seen the pain these warring, savage factions are causing those who are just trying to eek out a life here. If she can help put an end to that....

Lights flicker in front of Valeska's eyes and the HUD marks what she could not see before. Her helmet barely moves, her form remaining frozen and stoic. Translations coming through, it is easier to grasp what is unfolding but it does little to ease the tension. Of the group, visably, she's the odd out. The weakest armoured and thus, the easiest target. At least her gun is more formidable, thought she failed to mention to Avery when he gave it to her just how long it's been since she's fired a rifle.

If this conversation goes well, hopefully it'll be a little bit longer before she breasks that record. <"Valeska Jaivon."> Straight. Simple. Notably not Kora.

Well nobody's shooting at anybody yet. That might be a good sign for once. Terek usually isn't the type to just give away who he is, but he is going to do what he can to try to at least keep things civil.

"I am Terek Rosol of Clan Kora." He says, giving them his full name and noting that he is, in fact, part of the clan. He wants to make sure they kno exactly who he's with, if he's going to do this.

<"Hadrix Kora, Al'Verde to Sumi Alor'Kora."> The gruff and rumble voice comes at the last of them, the big man just staring up with no other motion - a looming statue of dark purple and oil-iridescence. Completely at comfort here. A man purpose built for war, on a planet where those not trying to go unnoticed are contesting for salvage, equipment and territory to expand. They may be a directionless people in some regards. But what can a people so devoted to war do when trapped on the ruins of their cultural home?

<"Valeska of Jaivon, Avery, Terek and Hadrix of Kora. We see you."> Evie missed for her quiet and her particularly tiny nature compared to the other three Koras before her. <"I'm Bhava, Ruus'alor to Bron. I have authority to have you brought up."> a repulsor sled pushing out and lowering down the edge of the sheer cliffside. Guide-lines with it, perhaps anchors as much as stabilizers. A sort of turbolift for a people where jetpacks have become hoarded treasures.

<"We will talk.">

At least without shouting.

Valeska of Jaivon... hmm. She actually likes the sound of that. Making a note to change her datapad information the next time she gets mercenary works, Valeska's thumb flicks the safety and the carbine whines down to dull hum then nothing. Barrel towards the ground, she waits for Hahtavi and Hadrix to start moving before falling into step with them, making sure to veer a little closer to Avery just in case a speedy retreat is necessary.

Once the formality of introductions have been given, Hahtavi partly turns to look back to Hadrix for any cues his commander would care to pass on. If there's no hand gesture to halt him, the former Llearil will turn and start walking towards the lowering lift. No reason to use his jetpack and alarm anyone or draw more eyes to this location by the light and noise firing off. Things like that can be seen far across the desert night.

Quietly he boards the lift and keeps his rifle in hand, ready to use. <<" Wise if we don't all go up at once. Only half, then the other half?">> Maybe he's concerned about putting all of their eggs in one basket with nobody to cover them.

Avery eyes the makeshift lift coming down the side of the cliff, it looks ramshackle and thrown together but seems to work well enough for their purposes. He's always ready regardless, though this seems to be a friendly meeting, he's on guard, persons marked, and alert. We waits for the rest of the crew to move forward, stepping in behind Valeska in case they need to make a hasty exit, her being the only one currently without a jet pack to be whisked away. Avery nods to Haht's suggestion, stopping just short of getting onto the lift, standing there and watching as he waits his turn. <<"Make sure to grab Val if you need to scoot.">>

<<"If they try to drop us, we all have packs, or gravity equipment for those without and then I'll be angry.">> is Hadrix's response to Hahtavi's comment. Showing no sign of hesitation or caution. Utterly confident in his ability to survive whatever is thrown at him. <<"Caution doesn't seem to be the watch word on this planet, anyway.">>

The ride up is jittery, old and new tech cobbled together. Equipment maintained because there is no other choice if they don't want to have only pitons, rope and pully for their method of ascent and descent not requiring climbing by hand and foot.

Once everyone is up they are only brought approximately a quarter kilometer in. From atop it's clear the Butte is at least two, maybe two and a half kilometers at it's widest and just over half that at the shortest. There are signs of battles fought here over the years - but without air speeders, the defensibility is unquestionable... even with signs of heavy weapons having taken out bites of the edge that can be noticed up high.

Bhava of Shad'hain walking among the group as warriors marked out as Haran'Kemire or Shad'hain clan escort, <"Llearil work on the north and east faces. So sadly I have none here for you to speak with. Bron has Ruus'alor on the compass points. If you wish to be granted access into the settlement proper he has a standing request. Go to the old clan home. See if you can find something lost, or bring us back the heads of a Shrieker each."> she pauses, looking from face to face. <"What say you?">

It's definitely an easier mission than the last few have been if not a lot more confusion. Valeska is just taking it all in as much as she can and hoping she can retain a fraction of it. Maybe this helmet has some kind of recording device on it like the Mando's have? She isn't about to start pressing buttons. With Avery not far behind, Valeska stays near to Hahtavi and Hadrix: just to make sure she is where she needs to be as she otherwise would have no idea. Any questions addressed to the gruop is met with silence from the merc. Again, she really has no place here to say or offer anything aside from some extra firepower.

Hahtavi goes where they are lead, looking around carefully. Trying to see if there is anyone he might know and recognize. Probably not without them removing their helmets, and they will not with strangers here. It's been too many years for him to be able to recognize armors.

<<"Then some of my family survived and are here.">> Relief floods his voice, that some of few of the Llearils yet live. There is /strong/ temptation to ask them to bring them here, that he may speak with his kin. But no. Hahtavi must stay focused on their mission, not his own personal desires in this matter.

He gives a curt nod of his helm, <<"For myself, I will do this - to bring back something lost or the heads of Shriekers.>>" But he can not speak for the others so Hahtavi turns to look at the Koras with him, and Valeska.

Terek, for his part, keeps his hands folded behind his back, close enough that he can reach his pistol if things go down, but so far things don't seem to be showing any signs of deteriorating. But he knows that Mandalorians are not exactly known for their long bouts of peace. Still, things seem to be going really well, even if he will admit he has no idea what's going on. Until the mention of bringing back something lost, or the head of a shrieker. Hunting is something he understands.

Much like Valeska, Avery stays silent, the man apparently knowing when it's best to open his mouth at least in this occasion. Negotiating with warlike folk is not the time to mouth off and throw quips. Instead he simply looks around Mandalorians' home, noting the previous marks from battles fought, the lay of the land, and the strength of their crew. His T-Visor swivels with every other step, giving disarming nods to any he sees that may have a bit more heat in their gaze. The crew are here on a peacekeeping missing... for now.

When the deal to gain access to the entire compound is offered, a small smile stretches across Avery's lips. That's the part he had been waiting for, as noted multiple times, he's not good at convincing. He /is/ good at killing and causing general mayhem and destruction, where it's needed of course. He supposes then not general, targeted mayhem and destruction... <"I too will accept this charge and shall return with at least a head of a Shrieker and hopefully something left behind as well."> This is said with as much confidence as can register from his vox, the grey armored Mandalorian nodding his decision as well.

<"Speaking for Sumi and myself, it's agreeable."> Hadrix rumbles, if nothing else can ever be discerned about the two leaders of Kora - the pair seem to operate on some supernatural telepathy. Greeza and Pheegus having a pool that they only say things out loud to throw the rest of the clan off their scent.

Bhava bobs her head and looks to one of those with her and the expedition group, sending them off at a jog to relay the message. Others come from basha hides, bring out a few small supplies out as well, <"You can shelter here for now, unless you need to return for anything. Looks like you lot still have comms that work."> a little envy there?

Perhaps. But now there is a chance for the Expedition to find a new outpost. On the Butte of the Last Home, or maybe in the ruins of an old home gone to darker figures claiming it for their own.