Log:Mandalorians: Slayers of Men
[ Jarret Sur (jsur)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Taakuur'taap. Place of Bones.
In the southern reaches of the planet, near what was once a polar cap, the weather remains somewhat tolerable - at least, during the day. Roaring winds and heat become a freezing waste at night when the temperature plunges into the negative double digits, dooming many of the travelers who come this way to try and get away of the worst of the raiders living closer toward the more populated equatorial regions of the planet. Their corpses are interred here, though the cairns laid by well-meaning mourners are often scattered by the winds - as are their bones, which litter the field around the fortified walls of this small town. So it is this for which the name has been given, and thus has it been for decades at the very least, until the ground has become a charnel field.
The bones of its citizens might soon join them.
Raiders are everywhere, and they have begun to move south. The Band of the Skull, or so the most recent gang of living monstrosities call themselves, have come from the north to harass and prey upon those travelers coming south. Three times they have tried to besiege Taakuur'taap, and three times they have failed. Their warriors whittled down to few and breaches blown through the walls, the town is on the verge of obliteration. Now is a time for heroes and miracles - and, like all miracles, they come from the meanest beginnings.
It is a lucky transmission from the settlement that has brought the warriors of the Revivers to the walls, along with their allies. Four tall walls of stone and junk plating make the town a relatively fortified structure, though these are now in rags; atop one of the remaining parapeted length, Jarret surveys the horizon with a pair of electrobinoculars, his helmet clipped to his waist and his long hair blowing unbraided in the wind. They will come from the north, where the town is unshielded by the rocks behind it. They always come from the north.
[Arcael]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Up on the walls, there also is a Distayre, to represent another clan in the revivers,giving her rifle one last check <<"Shouldn't the raiders recognize they are up to a futile task, Alor Sur?">> she offers, wearing her helmet. Of course, she might just willfully ignore the fact that the walls are about to give down. But let's pretend we are in a way better situation than we are because that is how morale works.
[ Hahtavi (Haht)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Hahtavi is among those who have come to stand with Clan Sur and aid those of his homeworld. He too stands upon the battered, crumbling walls of Taakuur'taap and surveys all that he may see in each direction, taking his time to adjust his gaze to the lay of this all too familiar landscape. These recent trips back to Manda'yaim are no doubt shaking loose all sorts of memories of his own brutal past.
His own helmet is on and sealed. Snipers are a thing, even among bandits. He walks the walls carrying his rifle, rigged with a tactical strap should he require his hands free. He listens to his coms, saying nothing, as the others speak. There is the barest trace of a limp due to his left leg being yet stiff and sore from recent injuries, newly healed.
[Riwa Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
<<"You would think that....">> Riwa's normally warm voice sounds less so through that helmet of hers. Rolling her shoulders a bit as she lifts that axe up onto her left shoulder as the other goes to her hip. Hopefully this time...she won't be a bloody mess. Turning her head to look over the others before her gaze lands on Arcael. <<"Let them be foolish, sister....we'll show them."..
[Tara Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Tara herself has set up in a position on the parapet, bipod set up and letting her brace the sniper rifle to keep a steady watch on the horizon. Her helmet's on as well, HUD linked to the rifle's scope as she slowly scans it back and forth. <<"They're raiders. Dar'manda. They lost any common sense years ago.">>
[Jarret Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"I am not here to lie to even the enemy, Arcael." Jarret frowns as he scans the horizon, still rich and bright with the noonday sun. At least at night they have protection of the cold here. "They have the advantage, and they know that they do. We must make sure that whoever these people are, they do not return a fourth time. We must not minimize what they have so far been able to do."
A slight look to Hahtavi and Arcael, and then Tara. "You three will work with me to suppress any raiders that draw near enough to fall within weapons range," he instructs. "They will come with boarding ramps, as the elders here have told me they have used before. Or perhaps even explosives. If they breach this wall, these people are dead. We must ensure that they spend the coin of their blood but dearly if they seek a successful slaughter." And theirs, too, as it were.
Then, to Riwa, and to a small knot of warriors who have come up from below, Sur fighters bearing swords and pikes of various powered and unpowered design. "You and your troops are to meet any boarding party and kill them, Riwa. Likewise, if we are able to disarm any approach, descend to the surface and kill them there. We must be meticulous in our efforts, or we /will/ lose. And that cannot happen."
Realistic man, that Jarret. Engineers are fairly blunt where numbers are concerned.
[Arcael]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Arcael looks towards Riwa and nods <<"Of course.">> she agrees <<"They should pay for their mistake. Although they probably won't end up being around to learn from it.">> she stops as Jarret says the whole truth <<"Of course, Alor Sur.">> she says with a nod <<"I will make sure anyone in weapon range shall not be able to cause much trouble.">>
[Hahtavi]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Hahtavi turns when he's addressed. He keeps his distance so they don't bunch up. Helmet communications allow them to stay in touch without need of close physical proximity to one another. <<" Hahtavi copies, over. ">> He turns his helmeted head, visor reflecting the colors of the barren landscape around them and the empty sky. Very little clouds or rain anymore on this world. He unclips the water flask from his belt and unseals his helmet to drink water, staying hydrated in the dryness. It leaves his rifle hanging by the front strap for a moment as he does so, eyes still on the landscape to the north before his gaze travels more westwards.
When finished, the half empty flask is rescured to his belt and his gloved hands take the rifle back up, helmet once more sealed.
[Riwa Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Riwa turns her attention to Jarret, bowing slightly as she hears his words. <<"Understood, Alor.">> Turning her attentions to her small brigade she motions for them to move with her. <<"You will take up defenses with me. Be prepared to land if need be so we can lay waste to them on the ground.">>
[Tara Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
<<"I plan on relieving as many of them of their heads as I can before they get in range. And if they've got their satchel charges out in the open? All the better.">> Ever glad for her armor's environmental system, Tara toggles between visor and scope filters with a few eye flicks.
[Jarret Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Good. We will kill them until they can no longer summon an assault." Is it confidence that drives his words, or simply the certainty that life or death will meet them at the end of the day? Whichever it is, his face is swiftly hidden as he pulls a stretchy coif over his head and pulls the helmet on over it. His repeater is drawn and charged, and the long watch begins.
But it is not /that/ long.
Two hours later, dust rises in a plume on the horizon. Speeders are on the way, a line of them, churning up the pale powder of mingled rock dust and crushed bone beneath their lifter plates. It is not hard to see them, nor is it hard to see that as fast as they are, some of them are heavily armed - hardtop trucks assembled from junk, the turrets on their back ends are still very serviceable, as are the cannon muzzles jutting out of them. Others are open-topped, but with armed warriors in the back of them. They're coming to murder everyone, that much is certain.
<< Snipers! Mark your targets, >> Jarret calls over comms, calm urgency in his voice. << Those heavy guns need to be brought down. All possible fire upon them when in range! >>
But the others are still heading out...and fast. It's going to be no time at all before those boarding planks will be engaged.
[ Arcael (Arca)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
CLICK-CLACK goes the rifle as the bolt is pulled, raised to be aimed, even though neither the speeders nr the open top are in range. However, it is best to be prepared
[Hahtavi]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
There's time to kill while they wait. Hahtavi already has his sniper rifle set up along the wall. He's chosen a place he may lay and look out between two decent sized stones he's set up to provide firing cover. That way when they see them coming, he can snipe, then change back to the galaar for closer action.
So it is that he walks the walls, drinks water occasionally, and even finds a place to bleed his tanks discretely. It passes the day ... until someone calls out the dust cloud.
Like others, it's time to move into position. Hahtavi gets himself settled, his galaar slipped to his back. The Merr-Sonn ready. His gloved hands make adjustments as he peers through the scope, seeking targets through the cloud of dust.
<<" Hahtavi copies. Marking targets, over. ">> Aye, he's looking to see if he can see any of the drivers for the more heavily armed vehicles. See if he can take out a whole mess of them in a single shot. He licks his lips and is patient. No rushing this.
Quiet breathing. Ah, there's one he might be able to nail. A very subtle adjustment and lining up the crosshairs in his scope, leading the target slightly to adjust for distance and windage... Hahtavi exhauls softly ... between one heart beat and the next, his rifle fires!
His target is hit! That vehicle swerves madly, messes up the shot of the gunner, but alas it doesn't crash and wipe out.
[ Riwa Sur (Ri)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Riwa looks to her small 'strike team' before she looks ahead. Watching them speed towards them and she squeezes the <insert the name of the hilt of the axe bc she forgot so Hahtavi can fill in the blank> of her ax as she nods. Seeing those shots and watching those vehicles getting brought to task cause a smirk behind her helmet.
[Tara Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Tara shifts a bit on her knee, rifle swaying as she matches the bobbing of the oncoming speeders. There. One of the lead ones with a heavy cannon. She can see a glint of goggles through the driver's slit in the crude armor paneling. She thumbs the rifle's rangefinder, scope adusting the trajectory for range. Adjust for lead, and.... She pulls the trigger. A spurt of pink mist shoots through the slit as the inside of the hut'uun's skull rapidly becomes the outside. Body slumping onto the control levers, the tank swerves, crashes into another and draws a shower of sparks, before its front end catches on an outcropping. The speeder goes end over end before slamming down upside down, its poorly maintained power systems going critical and erupting in a mushroom cloud of flaming fuel. <<"Oya!">> Tara grins inside her helmet, half satisfaction half predatory snarl as shefinds another target. <<"Going for the next one to the right.">> An eyeflick syncs her helmet's reticle to her HUD, a violet crosshair playing over where her rifle's aimed for those in the shared tacnet.
[ Jarret Sur (jsur)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Hurtling toward the walls of the settlement, the line of speeders is a garotte. Though bulky, the pair of transports have had terrifying amounts of engine work, to the point that they are able to close the distance with the town's walls in rapid time. Once they were flatbed haulers, but their beds have been converted into hauling cabs, complete with tall hydraulic ladders that extend straight up and fall onto the side of the junk-metal walls with mag-clamps and hooks that bite into its physical matter. Both make it in, and both are now disgorging their warriors in rapid fashion, pistols in hand as they make to scale to the top.
<< Oya, >> Jarret bellows as Tara's crack shooting sends one of the scrap tanks tumbling away and exploding as its pilot is slain; the other, however, is still in shape, and its gunner is uninjured. A loud, squealing boom sounds across the plain, and a heavy lance of red light leaps forth from its cannon to strike the gates of the city, sending molten metal spalling away in a dangerously damaging blow. They hold, still, but likely not against another shot. Things are getting dangerous right off the bat. << Kill that tank, >> Jarret bellows, sniping one of the raiders off a ladder with a well-placed rifle shot even as he reaches for the sword on his belt. << Do not let them in! >>
[Arcael]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
There is a loud, dry crack as a slugthrower is fired at the laders, quickly followed by a familiar click-clack "OYA!" the tall Mando bellows as her target falls of the ladder. If it wasn't the shot that killed it, it's the fall, reaching for her revolver
[Hahtavi]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
There is a lot happening fast! Hahtavi hears Tara's 'Oya' and grins but has no time to give her a thumb's up. He rolls away from the sniper rifle and grabs his galaar off of his back, using the nearer of the two stones for what cover he may while still down low. The muzzle of the Mandalorian made rifle is up and taking aim on the tank that Jarret has called out, <<" Firing on the tank, over! ">> Tara may be as well because they have got to put it out of action.
The gunner comes into his sight alignment and Hahtavi fires! The first shot is a clear miss but his second is corrected and hits the gunner!
[Riwa Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Riwa looks to her strike team and nods. <<"Clear them out...don't let them get past this line....">> Bringing her axe down she takes two slow steps before she grips the haft with the second hand and slashes at one of those trying to board. Off he goes!!! Seeing her team moving she then looks back ahead, readying her weapon again.
[Tara Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
With the second tank's gunner currently in no state to do anything except hold his own guts in and whimper, Tara slings the AFD-43 and lets her hands fall to her belt. The Sentinel IV slides smoothly from its holster and roars, the bolt catching a climbing raider in the shoulder and leaving the mook screaming and dangling from one arm. The hunter's other hand slides the Z6 from the small of her back, snapping it open and kicking the stun field to life. <<"Oya! C'mere, Aruetii. Got a nice treat for you...">> Grinning even wider, she twirls the baton and advances towards the top of the ladder
[ Jarret Sur (jsur)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
It was bound to happen at some point. The warriors of the Band of the Skull are not weaklings, and their weapons, though savage, are keen; though Jarret's beskad slashes like a silver ribbon across their bodies, they too wear armor, and his sword largely draws but sparks and thin lines of blood as they finally clamber atop the parapets. Their vengeance is swift, as well - one of them drives their sword through Jarret's thigh, eliciting a sharp groan of agony from the warrior; another slashes across his belly, opening flesh and armored coverall alike. He goes down hard, hand pressed against his stomach in horribly suggestive manner, falling upon the deck as the howling raiders move to charge and strike down the rest. They fail, of course. Jarret has taken their bloody fury. But he isn't moving well, and his hand seems to suggest that he, through a haze of pain, is struggling to contain what should stay in.
[Hahtavi]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Things are getting hectic. They are scaling the walls and there's no more time for aiming and being certain of their shots. Hahtavi is about to fire upon more of them coming up the ladders when he sees Alor'Sur trying to stop the flow with a blade, being himself mauled and dragged down instead, <<" Jarret! ">>
Hahtavi leaves the stone and starts running along the wall. He can't get very far but he is trying to reach the Sur, firing his rifle to try and cover the other man. To kill those trying to kill, but his shots don't connect, kriff him!
[Riwa Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Riwa looks as her husband is hit and hit hard. That helmeted head turns as her grip tightens even more. <<"CLEAVE THEM IN TWO!!">> Oh yes...the woman raised her voice and yelled. <<"I WANT THEIR HEADS!!">> AND SHE'S MAD!! Raising her axe she slices through them then watches them fall with her team. Looking to Tara she frowns to herself and then calls out. <<"Keep them off of the Alor and Hahtavi. The team and I will make sure none get through if we can help it!">>
[Tara Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Seeing Jarret go down, Tara lets out a yell and wades into the mob over him swinging. The raider she meets manages to deflect the first two blows, before the third punts him screaming over the walls. It's a long drop. <<"Medic! Need a medic over here!">>
[ Jarret Sur (jsur)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The battlements are momentarily clear, but more of the wild-eyed screamers are coming, reasoning they might be able to overwhelm the group on the walls. Jarret, groaning, manages to grasp feebly with his free hand for the medpac on his hip, managing to open it and scattering its contents on the ground next to him. As combat rages around him, the alor reaches for a tube of flesh-putty; as he takes his hand away from his midsection, gray curls of intestine threaten to spill out as he, groaning still, attempts to fill the gap and keep himself from dying on the spot. As the pale, flesh-colored stuff begins to foam and flash-fill his opened guts like insulation gel, he fumbles next for a trauma stapler...
Meanwhile, the six are still coming.
[Hahtavi]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
He's about to drop to one knee and yell for cover so he can attend to Jarret's hideous wounds when Hahtavi sees Jarret is still conscious. Not only that, but the man's got enough sense to try and tend to his own wounds, <<" Stay with us, ner burc'ya! ">>
Suddenly there's a raider leaping up over the wall and almost on top of Hahtavi! Again he misses his first shot but keeps shooting and takes the Huttsucker down! The body collapses, dropping her weapon that clatters on the old stones of the battered wall.
Just in time to see Riwa hit a man so hard that she sends him flying - and about cut in half, both.
[Riwa Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Riwa steps in and simply cleaves a man in half and off of the vehicle. Whipping that axe around to tuck it under her left arm. <<"Finish them off!">> Riwa calls out as she quickly makes her way over to where her husband the Alor is, kneeling down as she sets her ax down. <<"Jarret...">> So much for her 'tough shell' as she looks him over and just...moves to rip a pice of her cloak off and starts to press it against his wounds.
[ Tara Sur (Tara)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
With Jarret taking care of himself, Tara's free to spin around and repel further attacks. The Z6 clashes against a vibroblade, sparks flying, before a jab to the blade wielder's throat sends him toppling backwards with a crushed larynx. Once again... It's a long fall.
[ Jarret Sur (jsur)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Savagely they battle, with the raiders giving as good as they are given at first - but Riwa's flashing axe, Tara's club, Hahtavi's marksmanship and the angry blades of the Surs in defense of their alor is enough to kill the last man trying to clamber up the wall. They fall from the ladders, tangling up in each other, hitting their speeders or the dusty earth. With their tanks damaged and their transports emptied of their warriors, the raiding party suddenly finds itself without teeth. Thus, they do the only thing they can: get the hell out. While the Surs draw blasters and open fire, the speeders turn and depart, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. The battle has been won.
As for Jarret, his breathing is labored as he moves with blood-slick fingers to staple together his savaged torso. << Naas, >> he manages as he pulls together his split flesh with the surgical device, bacta-coated plastic hooks punching wound closed squeeze by squeeze. << Naas, cyar'ika, udes...udesiir. >> 'Relax', he says, even as he lies there savaged. Never does he want to make his troops worry, even in the face of all that blood. Red shirt, indeed.
<< Ha...htavi. >> He turns his armored face to the other man. << Status re--report. >>
[Hahtavi]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
While the others are shooting at the retreating raiders, Hahtavi takes a knee beside Jarret. He slings his rifle over his shoulder and uses both of his hands to start grabbing things in Jarret's medical supplies, looking for something. Then he just pulls a small satchel around on his belt and opens up his own medpac to grab a specific hypo, <<" Riwa, elevate his legs. Treating him for shock. ">> That, first. Hahtavi can see what Jarret has or hasn't already stuck himself with by any already used hypos so he thinks he's pretty safe to stabb Jarret and give him the dosage.
A hand then to his friend's shoulder, <<" They are repelled and in retreat. You're going to need plasma, or whole blood. I will get a medic. ">> A /real/ medic.
There's no waiting for the Alor to object. Hahtavi gets back up and goes to find the Sur's medic and drag that person back to see to their Lord.
[Tara Sur]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Holstering her blaster and clipping the Z6 back to her gear, Tara drops to her knees next to Jarret. <"You're gonna be okay, Buir. Medic's gonna get you some of the nice painkillers, and then Ri'buir can deal with you smelling like bacta for a while. The raiders are gone, though. Ran off like the hut'uun they are.">
[ Jarret Sur (jsur)]-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
<< I will...live. >> If only just. Some of those staples are shaky work - but still, he's managed to keep himself from bleeding to death. But shock is taking hold of him now, and he sags, murmuring softly to himself but audible through the helmet's speakers. << Aa...buir, ni su'cuyi... >> A soft sigh, and then the weight of his injuries take him, sending him down into the darkness of unconsciousness and sleep.
Taakur'taap is safe. But it was not easy, and luck certainly alloyed the skill of the Revivers and their allies. But the elders of the town will not allow them to depart without payment. A heavy chest is given them, stone banded in iron, set with a genetic lock - when he is brought back to the world of the living, Jarret will be able to unseal it and distribute any spoils.
But for now....sleep. Peace. And, though it was very close, no righteous bones join those of the travelers that paved the road into the frigid south. Only thieves and murderers meet justice today.
