Log:Rebellion: Riski Rishi
Rebels meet with pirates to trade for supplies. It does not go to plan.
OOC Date: January 8, 2025
Location: Rishi
Participants: Rieve Selki, Dailo Fett, Wil Larolia, Ben Relor, Qutha Buvu Pah, Ferr'ai'ovumlu as Sergeant Riggs Mur'Tah, Karas Darkwing, Cin'cirad as Corporal Desral, and Sus
--
Room Description... a clearing on Rishi.
The lush and dense foliage of Rishi's jungles dominates the view from ground level, arching trees and vegetation provide a screen for illicit dealings and other less than savoury meetings. The heat is oppressive for this time of the day, unseasonally so, with moisture hanging thick within the air and clinging to every metallic surface. Shrieks and snarls and the rustle of undergrowth ring out all about as fauna dance through the trees or scatter and sneak as a wild roar of something much larger rings out in the distance. The occasional snarl and the ensuing panicked wails of such creatures soon follows as predator meets prey.
Scattered all about this clearing are crates. Crates from all over the galaxy. There are ration packs from Corellia, kaf packs from Coruscant, Czerka ammunition crates that had clearly been destined for Nar Shaddaa, and likewise crates stamped with the Morellian Weapons Conglomerate logo. It is a wild smorgasbord of ammunition and food stacked and sorted rather neatly all things considered.
The clearing is large enough for the four grav-vehicles that are present, two from the 'suppliers' and two from the 'purchasers'.
--
Oh sweet sweaty rebels. Nothing makes for a journey in a clunky pair of grav trucks through a jungle than a serious lack of shock absorbtion. The journey was hard to say the least and sure these borrowed grav-trucks are hard working work-horses, but by all that was spine-jarringly unholy, they hurt. It is therefore a relief that the assigned location deep within the jungle was finally arrived at. One truck might have hit some wild fowl or something that had stumbled dumbly into the path of the front-runner, but aside from that? No casualties. Just some fowl-family in the distant wilds wondering when fowl-papa would return home...
Yet here as the vehicles park on the west side of the clearing, it is noted that the 'pirates' have parked on the eastern side. Two equally rickety grav-trucks, various unloaded crates, and an assortment of pirates milling about and looking decidedly surly and sweaty. Five pirates with another two moving to intercept the party who have just arrived.
Lox Rekish raises his hand as the 'rebels' arrive. "Welcome! I trust you've brought your creds... everything here is as promised. You'd best stretch your legs, I know it's been a long journey." His voice is hoarse but loud, while Dreelo, a particulary scruffy looking Rodian watches silently at his side, rifle slung in a somewhat 'ready' pose.
--
Repulsors fire off, urging the grav-vehicle to stop. A flatbed, capable of heavy weight bearing loads, was fortunate enough to have a cab, but the AC only worked in winters, and heater only worked in the summer. Thank goodness for her armor and the regulator that managed it. Her ride, and those who rode on the bed, or in the cab, was not so bumpy. She opened the door and stepped out, and was actually in the midst of a stretch when the pirate Lox Rekish bid they do just that.
Stepping from around the side of the grav-truck, Dailo showed off the impressive arsenal strapped to her beskar plating. It was intentional, in the event the pirates did what pirates often do. She kept her helmet on, thankful for the visor that prevented them from seeing where she looked.
Accented, her voice cuts over the helmet emitter. <"It looks like lots of things. We will check before sharing credits.."> Arms come down to her sides and she steps toward the pirate..
--
So used to space, these ground trips are always awful. Wil is not dressed like a dashing captain today.Instead, he's playing the part of a Dropper. Clad head to foot in the Assault Trooper armor, but oddly only carrying a blaster pistol, if a big one.
When they arrive, he hops out of the truck, moving around to look at the items the pirates have brought to trade. His hand never leaves the grip of his pistol, but he hasn't drawn it yet.
These things are always so tense.
--
Yep. It's hot, it's sweaty, and the grav truck wiggles everything from brain to butt. Ben Relor is driving one of the trucks, a lit cigarette dangling from his lip that's getting ash all over his pants, but he doesn't care. He's focused on keeping this jangly ride in the right direction while his battered red R5 astromech droid, Five, chirps out directions beside him. It's definitely bumpier than Dailo's grav, but no one should be too nauseated by the time they arrive.
He pulls the grav-truck up alongside Dailo's and hops out, Five pushing itself down after him. He's in scout armor, wearing his usual cadet cap and a belt with many tools, weapons, and most importantly, grenades. Nodding gruffly to the others, he steps closer to Lox, his bloodshot blue eyes giving Dreelo a baleful look. "No funny business," he says, and whether he's talking about it from the Rebels' end or to the pirates, it's hard to say.
--
No need of air conditioned suits or even light clothing for this zelosian. Hat off and face into the sun where it dapples through the canopy, the man doesn't have a drop of sweat on his personage and quite frankly he looks to be quite comfortable.
Even with the jostling of the repulsor lift truck over uneven terrain.
He looks to be practically unarmed himself, a staff held like a walking stick and humming to himself as he comes to a halt near Dailo and Will, rocking back and forth from the heels of his boots to the balls of his feet. Eyes glazed and seemingly just digging the bright light and humidity.
--
Somewhere between sprawled and posing like a Hapan Girl is Riggs Mur'Tah. He's decked out in all of his usual raggedy sergeant glory, one hand patting his trusty blaster rifle and his mouth chewing on the end of a long since dead and gone blaster power cell. It's attached to a small chain he wears around his neck and the story about where he got it or why he keeps it changes every time.
Riggs is crazy. He be storytelling like that.
He almost seems to delight in the horrible ride that the Grav Trucks make and doesn't do much of anything when they arrive at their destination besides stand up, hop out and lean against the formerly bumpy ride. He's not one for negotiations. He's just here to start shooting if things go bad.
Yes, even though he's only a week away from retirement...
--
Dressed down for this, Karas walks over to join Dailo as he looks around taking in their surroundings and he isn't shy about his twin blaster pistols being on display. Optimistic but always ready for when things go sideways. Looking at the grav trucks and so on as well as who all came down here with them. Karas yawns a little as he covers his mouth as he does so.
--
Rieve stepped down from the second grav-truck and stretched. It was a graceful dismount, and yet one that spoke of a modicum of discomfort and mild annoyance at how many spine-jarring bumps the grav-trucks had bounced along and over. Though he had shared the communique from upon high that spoke of the chance of procuring these oh so fine supplies, it was one of those deals that had passed through a few hands and as always the word was to be prepared for anything. One couldn't trust pirates. One could hardly trust anyone half the time. Hardly a task that would shift borders and change allegiances of entire worlds, but it would keep a good number of rebels fed and kaffinated for a good while to come. "Mes ami!" Rieve would call out to those pirates. "My dear hearts, good to see you..." Though it is to Dailo that Rieve defers as he stays beside the second grav-truck, nestled by the ancient communications equipment that crackles intermittantly.
Lox grunts somewhat as he looks to Dreelo and then back to the rebels as they dismount and pour into the clearing that has likely been recently made for this very purpose. Can't keep using the same clearing of such deals after all. "Yes, yes..." He eyes Dailo and Relor. "Check, check... do what you must. As long as you have the creds, you're fine. Likewise." He eyes those so gathered and snarls lightly at the Hapan's warm lilting greeting. "No funny business."
The crates are all there. Sealed, but easily opened and unclasped and so forth. A few of the other pirates lurk and wait, standing there holding positions and eying the surroundings, while mostly eying those on the opposing side of the deal.
Dreelo himself also stays silent, nose twitching lightly as his black eyes dipped from one member of the rebellion to another, wiping the sweat from his brow
--
Dailo steps closer to Lox as if to draw out any discomfort and get a good read on the fellow, though silent initially. After a moment following Lox's 'no funny business', Lady Fett waves to the Rebel team. <"Fan out and check gear. Heads on swivel.">
Dailo moves by Lox and nears Dreelo. She makes no effort to conceal that she was 'watching' him, even affording him an 'up and down' seen plainly by the way her helmeted head moves respectively.
Dreelo appeared to be the largest threat currently, or at least the one with the twitchy fingers. So she put herself right by them. She hooks her hands on her hips, and watches for now.
--
Wil, for once, is using some of his skills that aren't drinking or captaining. Sealed in his armor, he could be anyone, and he uses it. His body language shifts from easy, relaxed, and chill to attentive and looming.
He's not super tall, but the armor adds a figurative six inches to his height, right? His helmet scans through the crowd of pirates, fixating on one that flinches for a second longer than necessary before resuming his slow pacing around.
--
Ben is paranoid to the last. He starts checking the crates, roughly opening them while he gets cigarette ash all over everything (eventually he seems to think better of it and snuffs the cigarette out on his bootheel after Five bleeps chidingly at him). But at the same time, he's scanning the perimeter and the cargo alike. Five rolls forward so that he can take a better look, too.
And yet, for all of Five's sensors and Ben's paranoia, they don't seem to find anything. That doesn't mean that Ben's ability to see the worst in everything isn't still totally activated, though. "I have a bad feeling about this," he mutters to his droid, who bleeps something in a questioning tone.
--
Head tilting to one side and his stance shifting to put his weight on one leg, Qutha's gemstone like irises dilate and his focus washes over Lox, almost dizzily. Wandering steps carrying him to the pirate whom the zelosian reaches out to gently place a hand on their shoulder.
"Easy on there son... S'all'l be quite alright ifn' we jus' keep ah'selves t'gether, ken?"
Even giving a little squeeze before his attention now shifts to Dreelo, approaching steadily while his gaze swims in and out of focus.
--
Riggs looks around a little bit but doesn't actually seem to be worried about the pirates or the crates or anything really. He's actually distracted by a piece of something attached to his blaster rifle. His crazy eye (the left one) kind of fixates on it and when he twitches he realizes that he can't not scrape at whatever gunk that is on the side of his rifle. So he picks at it. Like a scab.
And pretty much forgets where they all are for the moment. Twitch. Pick. Scab. Repeat.
--
Karas is a flyboy, being on the ground isn't normally his thing, though to be a damn good pilot you have to have good eyesight so he keeps a watch around the area as people start talking or continue talking. Hearing Dailo tell them to check the gear adn keep their heads on a swivel, Karas does just that. He moves to where the gear is and starts checking it making sure nothign is broken and what they came to get is all there, at the same time he glances about the area.
--
The Hapan so graceful, sleek, sweaty... well he is back lowering the tailgate of the grav-trucks. Grunt work for an officer, but hey, there's better folks than him up front. And yet... things slowly begin to slide sideways. The fine hairs on the napes of your necks, if you have fine hairs that is prickle. The heat? A shift in wind? Something feels off as Dreelo moves back a pace away from Dailo and snarls, his maw twisting as he turns to wave a hand towards the other pirates. "Kriffin' rebels..." The very words muttered as he rolls his head slowly from side to side and snarls beneath his breath.
Lox looks towards Dreelo and exhales, his trigger finger twitching as he takes a slow step backwards.
Some form of bird. A few of them. White and sizeable burst from the foliage and soar into the sky. D'urves?
The pirates likewise flinch as they fix their gaze upon Dreelo. Oh something is off.
"MARA!"
The single word rings out from Dreelo's maw.
And then the foliage to the north explodes. What would likely be from a BlasTech DLT-19, multiple shots ring out into the clearing. Wild and untamed! The shots are blind, they are indiscriminate. They flood the clearing...
Dreelo dashes for cover, likewise Lox. The pirates too also both dash for cover and curse at the unseen gunner's lack of aim!
--
Dailo watches Deelo step back from her, and it was all Dailo needed to see. When he screamed for Wild Mara Kara, Dailo's voice called out to the Rebels, <"WEAPONS FREE!">
She takes a bolt from the incoming machine-gun blaster fire, the bolt redirected by her beskar and forcing her back one step.
Growling, Fett activated her jetpack and moved into the sky making use of her combat tracker integrated within the her helmet. When her targeting system provided a 'general area', she drew both Westar-34 pistols and began to fire into the jungle foliage. From far off, someone cried out in pain, but Dailo had no way to 'know' if she had hit them. If anything, there was some encouragement to stop firing..
--
Wil drops, kneeling in the shadow of the Grav Truck as blaster fire races in. He swears under his breath, hitting his comms. <<We're being double crossed. Send in air support,>>
We'll see how that goes. He -is- a Captain, after all. If only they brought his ship.
He pokes out of the shadow and takes two quick shots at Lox, the alledged ringleader. One pegs him in center mass, the second goes wide, making the albino swear.
--
Ben lets out a long and colorful stream of profanity as all hell breaks loose. "I karkin' hate it when I'm right!" he yells, and Five starts bleeping in alarm as Ben runs to find cover, his eyes wild and his wiry body soaked in sweat. There's not really time to think and limited time to assess; at some point, he must have noticed that Will was going for Lox. And so he takes a shot for Dreelo -- but Dreelo's cover is too good. The blaster pistol misses, leading to another wild stream of profanity from the demolitionist. Who will probably keep firing, or try to cover those who are being fired upon. But for now, he's just karking useless.
--
When all hell breaks loose the man in heavy boots spins on the ball of one foot, long coat swirling around him before he pivots and then Qutha is rolling forward. Seeming to perceive as though under the effects if Tachypsychia.
Hurtling towards Riggs the Zelosian pushes the man to keep him that much closer to retirement when the blaster bolt strikes the apparently armored cloth of what Farmer Pah wears. Sparks flying and a dark spot left but little more as the strike seems to be dissipated by thermo-kinetic materials.
Frowning slightly, he rests a hand on his hip, "Oh bother..." muttered as he looks at the assailants. Spear raised but making no sort of aggressive action. Instead he is standing and holding the weapon as if it were little more than a divining rod or somesuch, making a single declaration for the attackers.
"I fear nothin'!"
--
Maybe Riggs should pay more attention when they are on missions like this. But for the moment he's too busy trying to clean this rif-- HEY! WHAT! The shove out of the way of the blast of almost certain death sends Riggs sprawling into a crate or something. Enough that he forgets all about having to try and clean his rifle.
"You son of a --" His brain catches up to his attitude when he finally realizes all of the hells, all of them, have broken loose and are upon them all. "When did-- nevermind."
A dismissive wave, a nod of gratitude in the direction of the Farmer that saved his life and that Blaster Rifle is held up and fired wildly into the jungle! "I'M TOO OLD FOR THIS!" The cackling goes an octave higher when he hears the sound of a critter flapping only one wing. Gottem.
--
Karas happens to be checking the gear when the attack started. A blaster bolt hits behind him and he blinks, "Seriously." he says as he quickly pulls out his W-35, seeing that he hadn't loaded his weapon, he quickly reloads and as he looks for a target, he sees one of the assholes who shot at him and he returns fire, hitting with his first shot, nailing the prick in the arm. His second show goes wide.
--
And then there was the latecomer to the party. Look, it's not his fault... Corporal Desral's belt got caught on the bench seat, and then as he got that free, he felt himself jeked back down onto the seat once more. This time it was the strap for his blaster rifle.
Look.. it was oe of his first times in combat.
Finally getting himself freed up he practically falls out of the truck. Landing face first, he pulls his head up and looks at the rest of the people, then sees the blaster fire. "Oh no! Oh this is not- OH NO!" He lets out a sort of yelp, ducking his head down and then picks his head back up. Looking from beneath the truck he shoots wildly at one of the pirates. Missing, but as he pulls a second time, the blaster rifle is lined up and catches one of the mooks in the chest. "Oh my... Oh no... Oh what..." His eyes wide, breathing heavy as he keeps looking down the sights, his hands shaking.
--
Rieve rounds the grav-truck he was leaning against while waiting for others to begin the menial work of loading boxes. That means you Ben et al. Of course as the entire clearing rupts into a gunfight! Well. The Hapan unholstered his clunky slugthrower and takes aim at the five sweaty pirates and fires off three shots, each loud. Oh hell are those shots loud. One can also tell that the recoil is indeed something as that pistol bucks mightily within the slender Hapan's grip. The retort erupts about the clearing! Three loud shots BOOMing from Rieve's own hand! Walk gracefully and slinkily and carry a big gun. All three shots miss, but they add to the general chaos and noise with the bullets thudding and blowing open one crate of Shento cigars... and punching two holes in opposing grav-trucks alike.
Dreelo finds himself winged by one very decent shot from Karas, flung to the side and flailing for a second or two, arm limp against his side, hand twitching, blood trickling down his palm as he wields his rifle a trifle awkwardly in the other.
Lox too is hit by Wil, thrown to the ground and though he doesn't get up for the moment, he soon claws his way over a crate, using it to aim and take pot shots at the rebels. "You will fetch a good price... a better price than I would get for all this! Dead or alive!"
The other pirates also open fire...
The pirate in the undergrowth to the north that Dailo was firing at? Well that mighty fire! Oh it lifts towards the rocketed Dailo... shots ringing out... that and a curse.
"Kriff you!" Soft though, 300m out. More a.. kriff... you...
--
Dailo uses the technology from her armor to track the gunner now that she's achieved superior height advantage. Locking on, she slides her blasters home and draws a knife from the length of her bandolier just as her pack releases a sudden burst.
Rocketing toward the spot, Dailo catches 'Wild' Mara Kara completely by surprise, in fact, it looked like Mara was going to abandon her weapon to run. Dailo kicks her to the ground, then lands after a brief hover. <"A skillful ambush,"> Dailo coaches, allowing her opponent to rise to their feet. <"..but mistaken. -- You will need to scream so others may hear your last words.">
Dailo strides forward, disabling Mara's arm when she raised it in defense. Stepping inside her swing, Fett slid the knife between her ribs, twice. The first brought out a gasp from her victim. She screamed in confusion, fear, and terror. All Mara saw as the final stab found her heart was the tinted visor of Dailo's Mandalorian helm. Dailo withdrew the knife and dropped Mara to the ground. She guided her knife back within its scabbard, then turned away so she might get back to her team. Mara found peace at last in the jungle.
--
After his potshots, Wil ducks back into the 'safe' shadow of the grav truck as chaos explodes all around. He mutters to himself. "I need to get a rifle or something." He flinches, ducking as a blaster bolt wings off the truck.
He swings his arm out, shooting one off as covering fire. Drawing a breath through his nose, he slides out of the shadow on one knee, taking his blaster in both hands and taking careful aim. As careful as he can, anyway. He pulls the trigger, bolt of ionized gas launching towards Lox.
It's .... not pretty. The pirate takes aim at the captain, exposed and in the open. His finger starts to squeeze the trigger, then he jerks, the rifle falling from his hand as he slumps, the jungle behind him now visible through a hole in his forehead.
Don't ask what the back looks like.
--
"Karking hells!" Ben doesn't like seeing his teammates get hit. Fire burns bright in his blue eyes, sparking him full of rage. Instead of lobbing grenades or firing off his blaster again, though, his brow furrows. Thinking thoughts! "Five, cover me," he grumbles, and then he runs like hell. Fortunately, the skinny Rebel is pretty damn fast! He makes it over to one of the pirates' grav-trucks, the one closest to the supplies.
And then...he does his magic. Faster than you can blink, he's setting charges on the truck. "Double-cross /us/, huh? Not gonna do that again anytime soon, if I have a say." Once he's got it all set up, he gets clear of the vehicle...
"HEY! WOMP RATS!" Ben gives the pirates a universally rude gesture and presses the button on his detonator. KA-BLOOEY! The grav-trunk's center buckles and then explodes. It is quite a show, and Ben laughs at the glorious chaos.
--
Spear sweeping like the zelosian was using it to make outlines in the sand - he begins wandering towards the pirates. Brows knit, the farmer locks his gaze on Lox with an expression somewhere between disappointed and resignation.
"All coulda done gone jus' smooth as buttercream pie, ken?"
And then the pirate is downed, leaving Qutha to frown, brows lifting faintly. Stalking towards Dreelo, the one who started the whole Fracas. Several steps carrying him forward before he thrusts - putting the durasteel spear through him and stapling the pirate to the crates.
"Surrender son, we'll keep yer alive... Ye still gotta chance, ken?"
--
Riggs gives up on shooting into the wild green(?) yonder. Whatever the color of jungle, there's no fever here because Riggs is mad as heck and he's not going to take it anymore.
"I'm not taking this anymore!"
See?
Riggs frowns and pulls that blaster rifle right on up and takes this thing called AIM (which he should do more of) and then he fires off at the Pirates of Mook Water. One of them catches a blaster bolt to the Torso and there's death and no dishonor. "Sleep tight." and then Riggs is running off to do some more aiming and shooting. Wild!
--
Getting hit hurts like a son of a gun and to get hit in his damn torso sucked. Dropping down behind the grav truck he was checking the gear on, Karas grunts in pain and he moves to the edge and takes two quick shots. Due to taking a hit in the chest, his aim is off as both shots kick up splinters. "Kriff!" he ducks back behind the grav truck taking cover. He checks the ammo, he has a few more shots before he has to reload.
--
The Corporal, nearly hyperventilating scrambles up to his knees behind the gravtruck. He's looking from one side to the other, then spots Riggs Mur'Tah. The sheer audactity of that man! Corporal Dresral takes a deep breath and nods his head in agreement. If Riggs can do it, so can the Corporal, "YEAH! What he said! We're not taking this anymore!" He stumbles out from behind cover, pulling the rifle up to his chest and almost immediately, one of the mooks hits him.
A shriek in pain and he drops down to a knee. "I can do it. I can do it." His face screwed up in pain, he takes in a deep breath and then pulls the rifle up. He squeezes the trigger, hitting one of the books once more in the chest and dropping him before the second shot wildly goes off to set a tree on fire.
--
Sus comes running up from the rear guard. "rhemit rhemit noosaazutie uhefevus..." But the chaos cuts her off and she's taking aim with her pistol, first shot going a bit wide. "athin!" Second shot hitting the left leg. Grinning to herself she straightens. "ofiraaphaa etaetutov oomapijyf efury..." Sus says softly taking aim a final time and firing her shot slams into his left arm driving him down. "oomapijyf aegh atyfoo thaa eferaj aewofevood!" She hoots before moving to not stay in one place for to very long. [Language: Zabrak]
--
One moment Lox was pondering how to spend reward money, the next? Well thoughts got a little hazy. Blurry. Odd. Sensation faded. His hand slowly relinquished the weight of his rifle and it clattered to the ground. "... hurrr." His mouth slurred and his head twitched. His hand shook. And he slowly keeled over with a dull thump amidst the lush vegetation that their grav-trucks had earlier flattened.
Another pirate down, the 'hired help' were starting to regret this as Desrail and Riggs take them out with well placed shots! Laying them low with precision fire. Dreelo and Lox were meant to be good. Sure, Dreelo was still mostly alive. But this had not gone to plan. He was a pincushion and blood bubbled up past his lips...
Hurrrrk! Hrrrrrk! Cough! Oh he snarled as Karas took pot shots at him!
Mara though? She never saw Dailo coming until there she was. She had fired randomly in that direction up into the air, but the crumple of the ground, the sudden sharp piercing strikes after she rose? She lost her breath instantaneously. She just felt that sharp sting, that punch of metal into her as every attempt was blocked or dealt with. She never stood a chance. And indeed, her final view is of Dailo as her vision turns black and down she slumps, dead amidst the undergrowth. The last noise anyone heard was a sharp shriek.
Rieve himself? Well he just got shot in the chest and back he stumbles, gasping for breath. Stumbling and landing hard on his ass, deep ragged breaths sought and yet nothing but shallow air is sucked into his lungs. Rasping, hoarse, the Hapan grasps for the truck and slumps in against it, gazing off to the pirates and firing off three shots with the weight of his pistol feeling oh so heavier with each shot.
The explosion flattens the surrounding area of that truck, mercifully away from the supplies. Fires spread where flaming wreckage was flung into the undergrowth, but they are slight and hardly all that concerning given the explosion mostly extinguished all. Two of the pirates eye the explosion, they look to the opposing force, oh sure one takes a pot shot at that gorgeous Hapan. So gorgeous... and Dreelo fires upon Wil and wings the man as he begins to breathe his last breaths. But the firing peters out... at least from the three still alive pirates, or two alive and one wounded and bleeding mook. There seems to be a noticeable shift... fear. Horror. The fire is reflected in the eyes of those gawping mooks...
--
Dailo's return is heralded by the loud noise from her jetpack, and the 'thonk' sound of gear as she landed on her feet. Without a weapon in hand, though far from unarmed, she cuts off the escape of one pirate by kicking his leg out from under him.
He comically wipes out in the dirt, but scrambles back up to defend himself. Dailo allows him enough time to find a knee, crouching, before landing a torso blow that was devastating. She use the weight of her armor and the momentum of a short-burst from her jetpack to catch his solar plexus. When he struck the ground a second time, it was to seize uncontrollably before passing on.
Dailo shook out her hand and looked for the next foe, walking toward the rest of the fighting.
--
Wil takes out Lox. It's a clean shot. He doesn't even feel bad. He takes a second to admire his handiwork, which is when the dude on the spear shoots him! He shoots him right in the arm! Why would he--
Wil grunts, swinging his wounded shooting arm over towards the Rodian, taking two shots that go very wide, sailing off into the bush.
--
Ben is just too keyed up to shoot straight. After a quick sweep of the team to make sure no one is bleeding out all over the ground, supplies, or themselves, he aims for Dreelo's stupid head. Five rolls over to him bleeping frantically. "Shut up, Five! I know what I'm doing!" Ben yells, pulling the trigger -- but it goes wide. Way wide. Dreelo's just too fast, despite all the chaos, and Ben doesn't hit him at all. There's another tirade of profanity as he throws his blaster on the ground (Five picks it up again with his mechanical arm a moment later).
--
Blasterfire erupting all around and Qutha is still looking to Dreelo with that disapproving parental look. Head shaking slightly, "Why cain'tchee jus' tell 'em ter serrenner, huh?"
Another shot ripping past near the pinned figure of Dreelo. Releasing the spear the zelosian twists into a half spin, bringing up a kick that takes the pirate in the thigh. The axis that the other has been quite literally forced onto causing him to spin, cracking his head against the ground to be knocked unconscious.
And it's then that farmer Pah is kneeling, to check vitals on the felled fiend.
--
Ok getting shot really sucks and it hurts like hell. Karas is going through it right now and it really shows. Seeing his main target getting dropped, he sees a wounded pirate who's trying to do something, he quickly fires off a shot from his blaster pistol and he blows apart of some really good smelling booze. "MY BAD!" he calls out. Oh he knows he's going to hear about that. He quickly reloads his pistol and tries to fire again and misses completely again. 'Why couldn't we be flying, I don't miss there!' he grumbles to himself.
--
His one hand coming down to press to his side once more, he winces in pain. The shot hit him low on the torso, just beneath his ribs. He presses on it a bit harder, wincing, but wincing because it hurts! It hurts a lot, but it's one of those things that... he has to press on it harder because it hurts. Like a way to home that it's not as bad as he thinks. Struggling back up to his feet he's pulling the rifle in close to his shoulder as best as he can.
"Just... Just STOP already!" He cries out, pain and anguish even in his words. This wasn't at all how he envisioned it being in the Rebellion! He thought he'd be sticking it to the man! Resisting against the oppressors! Going after the faceless legions of Troopers. Not... Not this!
Corporal Desral squeezes the trigger on his blaster rifle a couple more times, the shots taking the Pirate's leg clean off! Like the joke about how much a peg leg should cost. He let out a wild laugh, then promptly threw up on his boots.
--
Sus eeing the last one fall her face well it shows something not previously on it, shock...disgust...perhaps fear....but the quickly School their features running to Rieve. "Yo we need a medic over here!" She shouts. "Hey got help comin for ye, I...well Im sorry I wasn't up here sooner. Let me start loading the crates so we can complete the mission and get the kriff outta here yes?" She asks before getting up and moving to the crates to start loading them.
--
There's silence. There's not even the noises of fauna in the undergrowth. Just silence. If you discount the gentle sizzle of flesh. The burning crackle and pop of metal from the torn apart grav-truck. The wheezing from Rieve. Accented wheezing, it's classy. It's quiet. It's bloody. But it's quiet. The smoke fills the air, heavy and acrid.
Rieve grins at Sus as she approaches and waves a hand as he awkwardly holsters his pistol. "Yeah... Sounds good." Rieve nestles against the grav-truck, inhales a ragged breath, and pulls a slightly crumpled Shento cigarillo from beneath his slightly charred poncho. "Great..." Said cigarillo is popped between his lips and a lighter is soon brought to bear. A ragged coughing fit follows that first breath, but soon after Rieve is lazing, bleeding, and smoking. He got shot. He nods across to Dailo and exhales a cloud of smoke. "... load em up?"
Dreelo. Dead. Qutha saw to that. His last thoughts of stabbing pain and then blackness. Inky nothingness as his heart finally gave out. The last mooks also punched down, beaten to death and shot. They stood no chance.
Quiet. Crackle. Snap. Pop. The sound of metal plates expanding and flexing under the fire that Ben created.
Plus side? Sure the crate of Shento cigars and the fine brandy got destroyed! But ration packs, kaff and ammunition remain. Huzzah. That and dead bodies that'll soon find themselves returned to the jungle in various grisly ways... in time, this clearing will not exist. Just bones and crumpled metal.
--
Ben moves over to Desral and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. You alright?" The wiry demolitionist gives him a wry sort of smile. "Get used to it. Half the time, we're just trying to make sense out of good shit gone bad." He gestures to the supplies with his head, offering his shoulder to lean on if he wants to take a load off. "Come and sit on the grav truck. We'll load up and get the kark out of here."
Whether or not he does that, he squints over at Rieve and...Sus? A scowl comes over his face. "Where the kark did you come from? Flounce in at the last minute so you can claim heroics?" Guess he's back to Bad Reb to Rieve's good Reb, although when he sees that Rieve is messed up, he sighs. "What did you do to yourself, /Captain/?"
Either way, hopefully with Desral, he and Five are heading over to help load, have a swig and a smoke, and get the kark out of there.
--
Dailo is near the fire, facing it, but as the last of the foemen are gunned down, she turns back slightly to look over her shoulder and see who remains of the Rebels. To her surprise, the scrappy bunch proved their mettle. They can't see it, but there's a small prideful smirk that tilts her lips up.
When Rieve met her 'gaze', their nod was returned. Confirming what they asked, her voice announces over the crackle of flames. <"We need to see to wounded, and load the gear up. Collect weapons from the dead, and leave the bodies."> A glance up to look at their surroundings as a breeze swept by, rustling the jungle palms loudly. <"..the jungle eats well this day.">
--
Spear removed and retracted, Qutha frowns, head shaking somewhat as he looks to what the rest of the group are gathering up and simply starts back for the grav trucks. Hands moving to hang his thumbs from his belt as he goes, preparing triage for the wounded while humming to himself.
--
Sus smirks at Ben. "Oh quit with your sour nonsense or Kriff off Ben. I was at the rear guard this whole time and ordered up here just now. Not claiming any heroics. I totally didn't just kill a man, now did I. And wait Im still here you've been proven wrong, now if you'll excuse me Ill be loading crates as there is a job to do." She says picking up a crate and carrying it off to where it needs to go.
--
Leaning with his head between his knees he dry heaves a couple times until Ben kinda knocks him out of it for a moment. Looking up he looks passed him for a moment, then at Ben, "W... What? Oh. Uh y-y-yeah." He takes a moment, leaning on Ben and then nods his head a few more times. "Y-y-yeah. Don't worry, can... I can get back." He stumbles a few times on his way back toward the truck, wincing at the wound from the blaster. His eyes still looking far off as he sits down on the truck's lift gate.
The Corporal just stares off, putting the rifle butt in the ground and leaning the barrel against the vehicle. Staring off into the trees as he mutters, "I'm requesting a transfer. I swear, I'm requesting a desk job. I don't wanna see this ever again..."
--
Firefight over, Wil holsters his blaster. He sighs under his helmet, looking at the blasted crate of luxuries. His supplies are running low, and he hasn't had a minute go go get more. He moves over to try and heft a crate, but he's only got one good arm at the moment.
So instead he goes and roots through the ruined crate of cigars and brandy to see if he can scavenge a handful. He's earned it!
--
