Log:Onderon Tournie Round 8

Rotworms vs Wampa Stompas

OOC Date: October 22, 2021
Location: Iziz, Onderon
Participants: Clan Kora, Bounty Hunters' Guild, Hadrix Kora, Valeska Jaivon, Tarq Najjic, Hahtavi, Asalla, Grom, Lofty, Tamsin Cas, Vega, Rook, Sumi Kora

<"THE MOMENT YOU ALLL HAVE BEEEEEEN WAITING FOOOOOR: TONIGHT THE ROTWORMS WILL FIGHT THE WAMPA STOMPAS! WHO WILL LIVE ON TO THE NEXT ROUND? AND WHO WILL DIE ON THE SACRED /ICE/ TONIGHT! FIND OUT AFTER A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS!">

The arena is cold, cold as ice. Sand has been replaced with ice and snow, encapsulated by the protective dampening barrier and surrounded by an arena stands FULL of citizens and other galactic, worldly people. In the high box suite above it all is the King and his daughter, the princess, who have just begun to cut into their meal and have their wine filled.

Below, in the underworks of the arena, two teams prepare for combat. The Rotworms, Sumi Kora's team, all huddle near a great iron gate waiting for it to rise up and allow them to pass. The Rotworms number significantly less than the platoon of White Maw pirates and their domesticated Wampa twins from Hoth: Wampa and Stompa.

Sumi primes the staccato cannon, initiating a high-pitched whining sound. The heavy coolant backpack she has to wear for the hyper-active weapon is churning, and she bounces a bit to situate the weight. <"Everyone ready?"

Grom turns, very slowly, to fix his narrow yellow eyes on Sumi at the Mandorian's question. "Grroomm." The hulking alien slowly begins to nod.

Valeska meaders near the main gate rubbing her arm with a free hand; the other grasping a vibrodagger. Seems she's going to attempt to go melee tonight. To start, anyways. Helmet off for the moment, she looks over to her other teammaters to guage their individual readiness. It's Grom's response that merits a raised brow. "Hey, man. You feelin' okay?" Not really all that familiar with Houks, she is used to Grom being a bit more animated. And loud. And violently enthusistic to show off both.

<"Copy."> Hadrix notes simply enough as he checks the charge on his cannon while Gripper and Clankah stand off to the side with a heavy looking barrel and a... well it looks like a supply box of sorts, the ID10 ticking a mock salute with one of her claws. Whatever it is the big man has planned, it looks ridiculous as usual.

But then he's actually in his plates today, rather than the crowd pleasing (ladies... gents...) leather armor skirt and cross halter. <"Decided to pull something out, just in case. Heard there was big game hunting today."> the grin audible in his voice as he rolls his shoulders, preparing himself for the evening 'entertainment'.

Grom continues to nod, gradually completing a full down-and-up motion. "Isss."

Vega decided to come and see what this tourney was all about and since she'd not had a break from fixing ships it was more than enough time for one. The Echani settles into a seat far off on the side to take in the events of the tourney. She was definitely interested in others martial prowess and this would be a good way to see some others in action! Her BB unit warbles as it rolls into a place next to her and she whistles to it before smiling at it, "You'll be fine. We aren't fighting." she chuckles.

<"Tsikala!"> Yes, he's ready. Hahtavi's wearing his usual Dreadfinder armor that is temperature controlled. He has his rifle out and ready to go, but he's also wearing his flame thrower for the Wampas, for a Wampa roast! A last minute double check that his jetpack is in good order and he moves up to join the rest of his clan when the heavy gate should open. Hahtavi turns his helmed head to look over his various team mates and their states of preparedness.

Grom is still looking at Sumi when he completes the sentence, "Rreaddyyy." He raises the vibro axe (slowly) to rest on his shoulder as the Houk turns to peer toward Valeska. Nostrils slowly flare to draw in a breath to begin the process of answering her.

In the stands sits the galactic, worldly Tarq Najjic. He's wearing a suit coat and pants of close-fitted black leather. His choice of shirt is wearing no shirt at all, and the coat is unbuttoned while he's sitting, as is proper suit coat procedure. A green feather boa drapes over his left shoulder, goes around his neck, and then tucks under the coat. He's brought a bit of the essence of the box seats with him to the plebeian section in the form of a bottle of red wine. It sits on one knee. In the other hand is a glass half full. "GO - ROT-WORMS!" he calls out. He turns to his right, asking Tamsin. "/Is/ team that hires you, yes?" He shoos away someone seeking to sit next to him with the wine glass. "Is reserved. Go - away."

"They are. This is the second season that Alor Kora has contracted with me." Tamsin, who was already in her seat, and thus, was not in a position to be shooed away, was quite content with the bottle for water she has purchased for an extortionately high price, resting it, open, but un-sipped, on top of her especially large medical bag. "They have always done well in these tournaments, but, I suppose part of the challenge is that they never quite know what they will be facing."

The commercials for the sponsors have run, and the fireworks begin to pop and crackle, showering sparks that bristle the protective shielding demonstrating that the crowd will be safe against the stray rounds and blaster bolts. The announcer's voice cuts over the speakers then,

<"TONIGHT WILL BE A COLD ONE AS HOTH COMES TO ONDERON! OPEN THE GATES, AND LET'S SEE WHO HAS THE STRENGTH TO BREAK THIS ICE! SCREAM FOR YOUR TEAMS!">

The iron gates in the underworks begin to:

TINKTINKTINKTINKTINK

..upward, the wheels turned by staff to retract the length of the chain. Sumi nods to her team, and motions to the Al'Verde of Kora, <"Commander.. set something on fire .. GROM will need the heat."> Bloody sketchy ass Onderonians, stacking the cards against the Rotworms by using cold to slow their heavy hitter. Sumi moves up the ramp with her heavy laser weapon in place. When they reach the top of the ramp, Sumi IMMEDIATELY wipes out on the ice, busting her ass in a cloud of snow. <"WHAT THE REKK.. IT'S ICE. DO YOUR BEST.. IT'S SLIPPERY!"> Sumi's boots squeak as she tries to stay upright.

From the other side come two, ten meter tall and lumbering Wampas. Their names: Wampa and Stompa. Moving from around the two wampas come a platoon of eighteen (18) White Maw pirates, all wearing spiked boots and cold weather gear. "BLAST THESE HUTTSUCKERS!" Calls the lead pirate after pointing at the Mando who just wiped out getting off the ramp.

Grom voices to Valeska, "Gromm.. isss.. fffeelinggg.. MMMIGHTYYY." He's likely speaking to empty air by the time the reptilian warrior finishes speaking and glacially turns to lumber out onto the frozen field.

Coming in to the stands are two human women, one shorter than the other, both wearing identical black leather jackets and overall similar clothing. Asalla leads the other in to the stands as the announcer commences the match and shuffles her way through the stands to look for two particular empty seats. She finds them beside Tarq and offers him a short smile and she and the other ascend the steps to his section. In the distance she narrows her eyes slightly at Vega in a mannerism that silently says 'where do I know her from'. Once in the correct row she sits down beside Tarq, leaving the spot on the other side of herself empty for Rook and says, "hey! Sorry, we got caught up with customs. There was.. a disupte over our docking fee. Thanks for saving these seats!"

Valeska's expression twists in a bit more concern at the uncharacteristically subdued Grom before the helmet is slapped onto her head with a thunk. <"Okay, man... well... good luck to you."> She can't wait for his answer because the gates are opening and the twin terror of Wampa and Stompa are making their grand entrance.

Running down up the ramp with a lean-in to place her gravity over her feet, she emerges onto the frozen field with a grunt. <"Seriously? Cold than a Wampa's teat."> Do wampas have teats? Maybe they'll find out. With a most epic surge of heat behind her, Valeska rushs one of the pirates; falling to the ground in a controlled slide and burying her humming blade into the rich thighmeat of a spikey dude. First blud, yo. It's all downhill from here.

"You didn't tell me it was going to be cold." Rook is muttering in Asalla's direction, though her eyes stay mostly focused on the brewing event before them. There's enough sidelong looks to keep her from tripping over any chairs -- or people *in* chairs -- and then a slightly longer look at Tarq. Or, more accurately, Tarq's bare chest. The Tarisian herself is, in fact, dressed in the same black jacket as Asalla, and she's currently hugging the faux-leather closer to herself. "Aren't you freezing?" Green eyes flicker then to the boa, her brow knitting slightly, and then she's shaking her head. "Am I sitting...?" Her attention flickers back on Asalla now, her expression looking borderline uneasy as she glances about the group. So. Many. People.

A call for fire.

'Oh. We know this don't we.' those old voices chiming in, swimming through his thought's

The wookiee rifle is practically thrown back to come to rest on its sling on his back and the unsuspectingly compact plasma caster is drawn off his hip. Built around an E-11 frame - it looks like an oversized pistol to begin with and in the Massive Mandalorian's hand it looks... normal sized.

'It's been a while.'

Striding up the ramp and out into the main arena, Gripper and Clanka moving to begin assembling whatever in the hells of Corellia that Hadrix had them bring with. Shoulders hunching and head lifting for one hand to lift the bottom of his helmet up so that his mouth is exposed, a stumpy short-cut cigarra tucked into the corner of his lips - just short enough to fit inside the helmet without rubbing or butting against.

The end of the rifle in hand ignites with a blue-white pilot that is raised to light the end of the smoke in the big man's mouth, a thick grey cloud pluming from beneath the rim as the helmet is slipped back down in place.

<"Hell. It's about time.">

Clearing the ascent and raising the compact weapon and liquid fire becomes a roiling, burning, mist to wash over the form of one of the hoth predators. The roar of flames melding with a rasping, chuffing sound mixed with bass tones, like some great canine growling and huffing - the shaking of Hadrix's shoulders the tell of his laughter while within the confines of his helmet the iridescent flames render his features in negative relieve, black with a blazing white T shape over eyes, nose and chin. Mouth pulled practically into a rictus with the cigarra clamped in his teeth, risking singing his lips and whiskers.

Sumi's wiping out and her warning are heeded as they come rushing up the ramp. Hahtavi's boots do not betray him as he comes out onto the ice. He doesn't take to the air at once. Instead he moves off to the right to spread out so they aren't clumped up and he looks for their opponents. It's a target rich environment.

He sees his Al'verde flaming one of the huge wompas, so Hahtavi lifts his rifle and sights on the other one, firing away. His first shot may be a miss, it's hard to say. His second shot definitely is NOT a miss but doesn't seem to do the beast any harm! Maybe he only burned hair!

Then he's on the move, eye balling how many they are, how fast they can move, what weapons they have, and how they are arranged or working in tandom. Not looking real good on using cover here.

At least his activity is going to keep him warm! A quick glance to how slow Grom is moving.

The field of white, fake snow and ice is littered with moving bodies as a platoon of White Maw pirates swarm in, their boots jingling loudly with each step against the ice. Blaster fire lights up the field of white with red, green and blue as shots crisscross back and forth. Sumi responds with an insane amount of blaster fire from her Morellian heavy blaster cannon. She cuts down two in a gust of loud laser fire, but her time maintaining a suppressive stance is cut short when she has to comically run in place on the ice to get away from the lumbering giants on the field. Sumi slides by both Wampa and Stompa as the smash the ground with their giant paws with razor sharp talons. <"REKK ME!"> Sumi screams out loud, part laughing and part terrified by all the attention.

The crowd is screaming:

"WAAAAAAAMMMMMMPPPPAAAAAAAAAA..... STOOOOOMMMMPPPPAAAAAAAA!" Over and over.

The White Maw pirates swarm the small number of Rotworms (Sumi's team), doing their best to overwhelm while the tall WAMPAs lumber about to pick out the more delectable of the snacks trying to kill their masters. WAMPA, who is on fire, seems more concerned with eating than putting out the flames. All of the fire casts an orange glare over the chaos of combat.

Tarq turns to repel more invaders. "No, /told/ you, is reserv- Asalla! ... Rook?" An additional unexpected guest does not stop him from giving a small smile and gesturing with his glass at the seats. "Come. Is looking rough. Are cheering for Rotworms," he instructs. "The ones with no wampas." He watches the field anew, raising both eyebrows. "Very outnumbered. Mmmm. Looks rough."

As the melee played out in the stands below, Tamsin watched with what could only be described as quiet efficiency. if anyone could see inside her brain, it was quite likely that she was making a mental catalogue for herself of injuries taken and materials needed to repair such injuries. She did manage a drink of her water now and then, and as two familiar, if only passingly so faces came to sit close to where she had settled, she offered a nod in greeting. "I had not expected the seating to be as cold as it is, but I believe there may be vendors selling gear for such things, though, it will cost a good deal of credits."

Vega gives a look over the groups that are fighting. Oooo. Mandalorians! She was excited. She pats RN-D1 on the head as he shimmyies back and forth where he sits. She takes a sip of her water as she leans against the seat she was sitting in. Quietly taking in the start of the fight with her bb-unit.

Blaster bolts raining down on him, one striking center of mass - the Boar Wolf of Ealor proceeds forward, steady paced. The new toy he brought just for this forgotten; it's been so long since the 38 had been pulled out of its holster.

'This feels natural, doesn't it?' old voices, that one that is so often kept down below the surface. Elation. Dopamine, serotonin, endorphins. All those natural chemicals his body spent nearly two decades being conditioned subconsciously to release with the squeeze of his adrenal glands when a fight was joined. A slug flattens against the central heart-shield built into his armor. The rage begins to come next, palpable around him. Fury that something would dare take the shot. That the target for his flame rifle wouldn't return the challenge.

'What's wrong? We should give in. Enjoy ourselves.'

His next step is stuttered by a club from a staff against his left cuisse. The kinetics and the slick surface combining to risk his balance and a blaster bolt exploding against beskar rerebrace of his left arm nearly finishes that work. The laughter continues as the big man is cast to the sky on wings of fire, Krayt scale cape blowing out behind while a quick flick of fingers at the controls of the weapon that allowed for the defeat, and capture, of Malik Ren rapidly brings the flow choke to maximum, turning the flow of liquid flames from a cloud into a spiraling serpent of light and head.

'We missed this...'

<"We did...">

With a scream, the Maw Brawler retaliates against Valeska's pesky stabbing with several jabs of his own. A trio of stabs bear down upon her, forcing Valeska to twist one way; jerk the other. All the while, she keeps her gloved hand tight on the handle of her vibrodagger that is buried to the femur in the man's leg, using it as a pivot point.

Clear of the attacks, Valeska yanks the blade out in a streak of blood; digging her boots into the slippery floor and pushing to her feet; turning her back against the pirate and jabbing the blade up under his chin; ending his life in a surprised gurgle.

An audible grunt retrieves her blade once again in time to fend against a second White Maw target barreling down upon her; a quick slice of her blurred weapon rending through the chestplate and strike the flesh beneath.

Grom doesn't evade a single one if the blows sent his way, but neither does he seem to notice, much. Instead, the Houk crunches ice with each massive bootfall taken toward the easiest target for his frost dulled wits to keep track of: the wampa on fire. "Puny.. Rug.. Beast-" interesting thing for one lumbering monster to call another.. "Face.. the.. MIGHTY.. GROM." The Houk is usually deceptively swift for his bulk, capable of fearsome reptilian bursts of speed. But not so, at the moment. His axe falls at half speed, if he's lucky, narrowly nicking the wampa, but still carving away enough meat to kill most humanoids. "KING.. of Fale-" Oh no, he's reciting titles.

Asalla shoots Tarq a wink when he realizes it's her and clutches her slightly-too-small jacket close to herself as she sits down, having flashed Tasmin a soft smile of recognition before she did so. "Sit!" She urges Rook and leans forward in her seat against the unexpected chill. "The Rotworms, huh?" Her gaze moves from Tarq to the frozen field as she attempts to identify those in question. Her head snaps back to Tarq, seated beside her. "How are you not wearing a shirt? It's freezing in here!" Her tone is incredulous with disbelief! She looks to Rook, brows raised in an 'are you seeing this?' type manner. Clearly the pair of young Tarisians have never experienced an actual cold climate before this very moment.

Things quickly become messy as the ranks of the two teams clash on the ice. One of the White Maw Brawlers comes right for him and Hahtavi dodges the worst of the blade but catches some of it on his left arm. His armor deflects it and it slides but still manages to cut into his fibreweave bodysuit between the plates, finding flesh.

The wound is ignored and twisting to the side, the Mandalorian cooly fires almost point blank into the Brawler, dropping him with a bolt in the gut. Calmly, Hahtavi turns slightly more and shoots another of the White Maws as he sees another rushing up to aid his or her teammate. The Kora drops them as well with a shot to the chest in quick succession.

Footing is kept on the slippery ice. Hahtavi's aware of Hadrix flaming Wampa, the warmth and glow of the flamer's plasma rolling out like a welcome carpet for a party. All that's missing is the thumping music! Thankfully he has all the thumping music he wants through his helmet that dims when his clan mates speak over their internal coms. There's a grin behind Hahtavi's helmet and he keeps moving, eager for more targets.

"I *just* said that," Rook is half-muttering as Asalla gives her that look. But really, a bare chest in a freezing climate is still likely to be more comfortable than four-inch heels. Almost as fetching, too. Almost. Dropping into the seat next to Asalla's, Rook is offering a soft huff of breath that fogs ever-so-slightly in the air in front of her. Noticing just that, there's another, more deliberate, puff of air. Trust Rook to blow fog bubbles while wampas battle it out a dozen meters away. And to ignore Asalla, because clearly she's as fault for this cold business.

WAMPA misses, its massive paw slapping and shattering the ice, scraping back with razor sharp talons as it chased Val DESPITE being both on fire, and assaulted by GROM. Flames from above light up the white field of snow again, and WAMPA's condition certainly dominates the view for the crowd.

A ton of blaster fire is being sent in the direction of the swarming White MAW pirates, but Sumi only manages to catch one in a burst, blasting them to pieces that rain down over the snow in a mist of dark red. She shifts her fire then to help Hahtavi, who has just been targeted by Stompa's ire. <"Moving to you, Haht! You still whole?!"> It wasn't concern that toned her voice, more so confusion.. she couldn't see the man and wasn't sure if he'd been transformed to paste, or if he dodged and was just concealed by the snow and ice. She hoped he was okay!

The fight is still favored to the Wampa Stompas, and the Rotworms are taking a beating for their effort in the arena. The crowd is not cheering Wampa Stompa any longer, they seemed concerned OR distracted by the flaming ten meter tall Wampa flailing madly about.

Grom continues declaring himself, blithely unaware of the three White Maw brawlers striking him about the legs and torso, without visible effect. "CONQUERER.. of.. the.. Sky.. Road...CHAMPIONN.. of. Nar Shaddaaaa... DEFEATER of Tiny Wizard King..." The Wampa has left. "Of.. Corellia-" He's finally noticed that the largest of enemies is no longer in front of him, and ponderously looks around. "...You.. DARE.. flee..from..GROM?" A first lumbering step is taken after the Wampa.

Vega's grey eyes are wide as there is so much going on. O.O The white haired woman is speaking with her droid as they try to figure out what might come up next, detailing out the fight like they were commentators. Ouch, that's going to leave a mark, back to you Roundy! She muses a bit as she looks over the combatants, maybe she'd get out there someday, but that was not going to be anytime soon!

Valeska is rather pleased with herself, leaving one dead pirate in her wake and starting the second on his journey with an effective stabbity. In fact, she is feeling quite confident, indeed. That is until -- however -- a ten foot tall wall of fire swings a massive paw at her. Two bunny hops backwards barely gets her out of the way, a trail of heat flaring against her armour giving her both a moment's respite from the cold and a few skipping heartbeats.

She gets a devilish idea to ram the next pirate into the Wampa a'la Flambé, but her jetpack has other ideas: opting instead to make embarrassing farty noises and accomplishing nothing. By now, the second pirate has stomped up to her an in frustration, Valeska takes a wild swing to keep him at bay. <"That was the jetpack!"> Sure, sure. Blame it on the dog.

"I thought -you- had read the advertisment," Asalla retorts, continuing to bicker with Rook about the (to them) unbearable cold. She holds the jacket tight to her chest, slides her arms around her tummy and starts to rock back and forth in a vain attempt to cool herself. While the other is having fun playing with her first ever frost breath, the taller of the two Tarisians seems utterly miserable! It helps, then, that there's flamethrowers and rocket detonations going off and in her mind she likely wishes for more of that. If only to make it warmer in here. "That -is- a huge battle, though, what even are those.. monsters?" Her head leans forward to get a better look at the Wampas, winces as the Houk slices chunks off one of them.

"They are called wompas," Tamsin offered helpfully, as everyone seemed to be settled in nicely. "native to a planet called Hoth." Tamsin offered the explanation with no sense of wonder, only that same thoughtful tone she often had as she watched the world. Whether the battle was going well for the Rotworms or not, she would not yet put in a wager, though there were many taking bets around the stadium seating.

"Are called wampas," Tarq echoes, "and are /jerks/. Tamsin being too nice to them. Ecology this, biome that." He makes air quotes with his fingers, then sighs, scratching his chest. "Yes, she is right, but Tarq Najjic stands by axiom: only good wampa is dead wampa. Too dangerous to be left alive." Yes, it's pretty obvious that he's cold, too, but is determined not to betray the outfit by putting something warmer on.

Adjusting the boa isn't cheating, though. He does so.

Another shot to the chest. just shy of the beskar gorget of the heavy armor Hadrix wears, smoke venting from his helmet and the kinetics of the impact pushing the flying mandalorian backwards, drawing an animal snarl and he brings himself around - managing to be mindful of his fellows on the ground and the blast shot that sings past his leg.

A ratcheting sound comes from the flame rifle while he adjusts settings - pilot light going out for a moment and his right leg lefts to brace his boot against the opposites sabatons - the miniature launcher extending for a trio of rocket darts to spiral out. The first imbedding center of the wampa's abdomen, the next lodging in the bicep when the first detonates, opening up a small crater in the belly.

The final strikes the horned beast between the eyes, exploding a moment after the right arm is mangled by its own explosion. Blood sprays in a fantail across the snow and skull is exposed while the massive beast is pole-axed and sent to the ground with a ground shaking THUD.

<<"Alor, Al'Verde, Splash Wampa.">>

The voice doesn't sound human over the Mandalorian closed comms. It's a liquid growl through clenched teeth - somewhere between blood drunk and enraptured.

One moment he's firing away at and taking down White Maw Brawlers, and the next instant Hahtavi has Stompa raging up and attacking him! A massive paw hits his breastplate a resounding blow that rings forth through the arena as it sends the Mandalorian flying backwards off of his feet and through the air.

Hahtavi hits the ice, fails to stop his slide and plows into a snowbank, immediately engulfed by it. No wonder Sumi freaks out a little bit!

As soon as he's able to recollect his wits, Hahtavi fires off his jetpack and errupts back up out of the snow to fly up into the air - this time, under his own power! There isn't even a dent in his black armor, the beskar having repelled the blow even if physics still insisted on tossing Hahtavi like a ragdoll. You know it had to hurt. Thankfully his rifle is rigged on a tactical sling so dropping it was a non-issue. It is once more in his gloved hands.

<"That hurt, but I'm fine."> Rifle already up and sighting, Hahtavi flies back to close the distance and from above Stompa, fires away! Two red bolts nail the wampa soundly, burning away white fur and adding to the increasing stink of burned meat even as Wampa goes down in flames.

<"Think you can bat me aside like a ball? Have some pain, furball!"> A quick check of the status of his teammates as Hahtavi stays in the air and just out of Stompa's reach. He's an easy target for White Maw Brawlers to shoot at though.

Advertisement? What advertisement? Rook isn't even looking toward Asalla as the other woman makes her entirely too valid point. That said, the slight quirk of one pierced eyebrow suggests she heard it, even if she doesn't deign to reply. Not to that, anyway. It's Asalla's rocking that finally pulls her attention away from the breath fog, and after a long and dubious look at the other Tarisian, a black-clad arm reaches to snake around the other woman's shoulders. Attempting, in some sort of 'huddle for warmth' mentality, to pull the other closer. Rook may be the size of a twelve-year-old child, but she's surprisingly strong. There's a look toward Tarq then, and a somber nod at his assertion about the danger of wampas. She *really* should read those advertisements.

<<"Good drek, now let's do something about these huttsucking pirates already!">> Sumi is struggling to move across the ice as blaster bolts send up all manner of debris and snow obstruction. She nearly wipes out again but leans forward with a loud, <"WOAHWOAHwoahwoahhhh."> Then leans back, and finally stands there awkward enough to fire from again. In doing so, she joins in on the fantastic shooting from Hahtavi, lighting up Stompa so well that the large beast turns from them in recoil and pain, roaring out so loud that people in the front row will have ringing ears.

<"NICE REKKING SHOOTING!">

Pirates make it difficult though, they keep shooting at the Mandos and GROM through the haze of snow. Sumi begins to walk in place BEFORE getting some movement again, the soles of her boots squeaking on the icy surface.

Asalla leans in to Rook and, hesitantly, if only because she's convinced holding her arm around herself helps to warm up, she wraps one around Rook as well as the two suffer their first cold environment together. "Wampas," she repeats the word spoken to her by both Tasmin and Tarq, seemingly commiting the word to memory. "Smells terrible when their hair burns," she groans as her nose scrunches up as the stench reaches where they sit in the stands. Her rocking back and forth slowly as she (only slightly) adjusts to the cold, her head moving about to glance at people chasing after Wampas, people flying around on jetpacks, others doing fancy maneuvers to spin and blast at pirates. It's not -too- unlike a Lower City arena tournament back on Taris but certainly many more competitors here on Onderon. And colder. A lot colder.

Grom's habit of declaring his attacks before swinging (which is not a good strategy) is unmade by his ponderous muscles working slightly faster than his cold-slowed brain. Still pursued by the shots and bludgeons of White Maw humanoids on foot, and still failing to notice, Grom's axe- held high overhead as he slowly lumbers up to the remaining wampa- falls with the speed and power of a sluggish hydraulic press. But just like such an unrelenting machine, Grom's blow does hideous damage to what is unfortunate enough to fall beneath it, cutting off the wampa's roar and cutting the beast itself down. Only then does he manage to challenge the beast, "TURN.. little.. hair.. beast! TURN.. and face the Mighty GROMMM-" He seems only half aware the the subject of his wrath is no longer standing to be lectured, and that he's already swung.

'Let's do something about these huttsucking pirates!'

<"Yes, please!"> Valeska says gratefully -- exhaustively -- as she has been keeping herself busy with the pirates. But not busy enough because she's only managed to kill one and maim another. There's an awful lot of them, though the dead wampa that's slow-cooking on the field does provide a lovely source of warmth. And also making those in the front rows crave barbarque.

The White Maw is only detracted from his charge for a brief second and then charges Valeska, ramming his shoulder into her chestplate and effectively knocking her down onto the ground. The air knocked out of her, the crimson-painting Mandalorian has no time to recover as the pirate jumps on top of her.

Amongst the snow and ice, the two struggle to gain control of the grapple; the pirate trying to get hit her with the butt of his rifle while she flails a hand out to grasp madly for the knife lost in the small snowbank. Fingers wrap around something cold and metallic; grasping as if her life depends on it -- it does -- and swinging her arm around.

The blade disappears into the side of the man's neck and with a flick, Valeska turns the vibrodagger on; shredding his throat from the inside. For good measure. Getting her boot under the now slumping body on top of her, Valeska kicks the corpse off of her and rolls in attempt to get back up.

<<"All set Hadrix...">> Gripper's voice chiming into comms and Clankah steps back to look at the assembled crew weapon, <<"Kriffing crazy...">> She and the B1 droid slipping into position to begin checking the power unit as the big man's flight carries him to drop down behind the controls of the massive tri-pod mounted repeater cannon.

The plasma rifle left to hang from it's shoulder strap - knees flexing to absorb what little impact remains and keep his balance with the combination of ice, ceased rockets and his grav-belt slowing his fall.

<<"Out of your stanging mind...">>

The ID10's complaints suddenly drowned out as the vehicle class weapon begins pouring a stream of energy bolts so quickly that it almost appears to be a solid stream waving back and forth into the flanks of the pirates. Scattering some and catching two poor hutt suckers across their legs, chopping them forward into vaporization from the cannon.

<"COME ON! COME AND GET ME!"> practically howling, Hadrix issues his challenge to the pirates, stray bolts chewing into stone and causing the shields protecting the crowds to opaque momentarily with the bright red detonations strafing across and down again. Still laughing. Space, he's having the time of his life.

And there's Grom taking down Stompa after Sumi and he nailed the wampa with a number of shots. Sumi's praise is particularly heart warming to her fellow clansman. Hahtavi gives her a double click of acknowledgement over their coms and deftly repositions himself using his jetpack to better engage the remaining White Maw Brawlers.

Combat boots touch down, his maglocks doing nothing to aid in Hahtavi's footing. Thankfully his boots have good tread and his heavy mass helps him get a grip. Braced, his modified Galaar shoots one of the pirates that comes right at him! His other shot misses one of the Brawlers that is foolishly headed for Sumi. His chest aches and his breathing isn't as deep as he'd like due to deep bruising, but Hahtavi keeps moving, seeking additional targets. <"Doing well, Rotworms! OYA!">

Tamsin watching the weapon being deployed by the Kora Al'Verde, only shook her head, the sort of gesture that was more a clearing her thoughts than negation on her part. She had yet to show any disapproval for any of the weapons and tactics being used. "I do hope this fight ends soon. I did not bring enough supplies to treat one entire quadrant of this arena." Because that was the important thing. Practicality and triage. This is what Tamsin was for, folks.

Vega slides to the edge of her seat when blood and things start dripping to the ground, "GO ROTWORMS!" the Echani calls out. Yeah, this was going to be a highlight of taking one day off. She'd tell everyone about it. And probably get very stern looks for enjoying fighting. But it was the Echani way!

Sumi pours the last bit of her weapon's charge into the crowd of Maw pirates charging them. Her burst of automatic fire obliterates three of the pirates and then a fourth who was limping from an earlier injury. The weapon goes dry and she back tracks, pulling the rig off to drop it and prepare for close quarters combat by bringing her fists up. <"OYA! FINISH STRONG, ROTWORMS!">

In the chaos of all the shooting, the shield around the arena begins to flicker constantly from all the stray bolts. It shimmers, and the stands shake, when a massive bolt from the E-Web threatens to bring down the dampening field.

After the fall of Stompa by King GROM, the stands erupt in a cheer for the Houk Champion. "KIIIIIIIIING GROOOOOOOOMMM, KIIIIIIIIING GROOOOOOOOOOOM, KIIIIIIIIINNNNNG GROOOOOOOM!"

It's not looking good for the rest of the Wampa Stompas, as the platoon of eighteen (18) is reduced to four (4), and their heavy hitters who had the homefield advantage, lay motionless upon the ice, one of which is still on fire and probably well done by now.

The only man in the crowd willing to go barechested in the cold for the purity of his ensemble stares down into the arena at the only contender as crazy as he is. Lips purse. His head tilts to the side. Neatly-plucked eyebrows rise slowly. "Is crazy." He gestures with his wine glass at the Kora on the weapon too large to move. "Who /does/ that?"

"Is effective," he allows. "Maybe that sleepy big one can hug barrel after match. Is moving /sluggishly/."

As impossible as it may be to truly ignore the cracks, blasts, and shouts from the arena, Rook seems to be faking it well. Whatever may have lured the woman to the event, it didn't involve spectatorship. There's a hint of a grimace as one of the louder sqlueching sounds reaches her, and then she's digging the hand that isn't wrapped around Asalla's shoulder into some unseen pocket. A small spice vape device is drawn out, and without so much as a glance toward the companion who will soon be enjoying a second-hand experience, she's triggering the thing with a sharp inhale. It's time to take the edges off. "I think it smells terrible when any hair burns," she's muttering after that first lungful has had a chance to absorb, unhelpful as ever. And then there's a glance sideways, first to Asalla, and then to Tarq, as she lifts the vape in the universal 'want some?' motion. Sharing is caring, right?

"Face the Mighty GROM.. KIIIIIIIING.. GROOOOOOOM-" The Houk blinks. That's not how his litany goes! Why did he say that, and why is he still hearing it? A sluggish turn of his head toward the cheering spectators, and a slow, victorious raise of his axe to the acclaim. He asks over the helm comm, <"When.. did... cheering... mammals.. arrive?">>

Valeska's roll is interrupted by a pair of pirates who have decided that after firing on the Big Man with the Gun and missing terribly, they'd have better luck with the melee Mando not yet on her feet.

They are wrong.

Knelt down on a knee, Valeska wraps an arm around the first man's leg; locking him in place while introducing his gullet to Mr. Blade McStabbity. A slice sideways opens his insides to the outside like a fresh Tauntan; the heat escaping his body quickly turning to steam.

Before the body can hit the ground, Valeska completes her motion, the vibroblade coming to life one more time during the arc that ends with it sheathed between her final attacker's collarbone. Lucky guy gets a quick death.

Lofty is slurping from a can of Gold Squadron Batuubucha Bomber Tea in the stands. He uses his boopsnoot like a straw, slurp slurp SLURP. A cheer toots from his snoot when the Wampa is slain. He was never fond of Wampa and their kind.

Asalla's eyes go wide when the stationary gun opens up in to a crowd of brawlers, mouth dropping as the blaster bolts cut through them, in some ways literally. A familiar smell fills the air near her, something she smelled often on Taris. It's then that she sees the offer for the spice vape. She smiles softly, raising her hand just a few inches to politely decline, but doesn't seem apprehensive about the other smoking from it beside her. When Rook offers it to Tarq, the Lorrdian leans back a bit so she won't be in the way in case they exchange the vape. She continues to press against the other Tarisian, their shared huddle seeming to warm her up at least to some degree while a battle ensues below them. A battle that is clearly becoming one-sided at this point.

THONNKTHONNK

The cannon keeps spitting fire while the trigger between the E-Web grips churns icy ground into stinging slush and rapidly cooling mist, arena wall to gravel raining from the sides and threatens, still, the deflector integrity. The stream of fire rolling past the pair of remaining pirates - warming armor and skin beneath.

THONNKTHTHONNKTHONNK

<<"Hadrix!">> Gripper's shouting silent outside of comms while Plan Besh keeps up his work, the cigarra having burned dangerously close to his skin and a line of saliva running into the whiskers on his chin as his laughter continues to burst through his vocalizers.

THONNKTHTHONNKTHONNK

<<"HADRIX!">> the last scream finally registering and the massive repeater chugs to silence, even if the big man's shoulders and chest keep rising and falling.

Vega's not helping with the wide eyed look, "Is that even legal?!" she shouts as the gun just opens up on the crowd of fighters. "Don't shoot the pretty one!" she calls out. Which one is the pretty one?! The world will never know!

There's a slip on the ice but Hahtavi manages to keep his feet. It does however cause him to miss his next shot at one of the remaining White Maw Brawlers. Then he's trying to move closer and keeps slipping, there being blood spilled out on this patch of ice from Stompa who's so kindly ooozed out steaming all over. What a bloody mess. It ruins his second shot too and then next thing you know, the Mandalorian is having to redirect his focus to not slip and fall.

That'd be just what he needs, to fall T-visor first into wampa blood and guts. Instead, he steady's himself with a boot on the beast's hide just in time to see Valeska gutting a man. <"Good job, Val!">

Hadrix is having fun, as usual. At least the E-web finally stops thumping away! Those blasts were going a bit all over the place and even Hahtavi was wondering if he might have to dive behind the dead Stompa to avoid a blast.

The last two Maw pirates make it to Sumi who accepts the first by claiming their collar and /slamming/ her helmeted head against their face. The man goes limp and falls just in time for Sumi to do it again.

WHAM.

<"MUAH!"> Announces Sumi, who's seeing stars after the second consecutive Keldabe kiss. Her opponent falls and she slips back, dizzy, busting her ass again. She doesn't bother rising up, the match is over it seems.

The stands have erupted in cheers as the Rotworms pull a victory out of a bad... hairy (I'm here all week) situation.

"ROOOOTTTWORMS...ROOOOOOTTTWORMS!"

<"THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS, THE ROTWORMS ADVANCE TO THE NINTH ROUND. JOIN US AGAIN WHEN THEY FIGHT THE NOTORIOUSLY FAT AND DEADLY GAMORREAN DEATH SQUAD, THE BOSSSSSSS.... HOOOOOOGGGGSSSS!">

Sumi pulls her helmet off and lights a smoke, her bloody nose revealed when her hands come down, clamping her lighter shut. "Rekking cold out here.." Slow exhale of smoke.

"Ah, it seems that my time has come." With that pithy little remark, Tamsin rose from her seat, setting the water aside to begin to pick her way down to the arena floor, so that she could tend to the Rotworms who had need of her services. Hopefully, the arena wall would not decide to collapse on her way down. That would require a renegotiation of her contract.