Log:Spring Hunting Festival

Spring Hunting Festival

OOC Date: February 18, 2020
Location: Yavon Forest, D'Qar
Participants: Hadrix Kora, Ban Iskender, Sajin, Mak the Hutt, Vex, Sshylisk, Evie Leven, Berty Odessa, Vena, Merek, Aryn Cole

The spring festival hunt was not Springy. It did not feel like spring. It was not spring weather. Yavon forest was the vast sea of evergreen and cedar, mixed in with white bark and autumn orange trees, the forest was a sight to behold when winter still grasped it beneath nature's snow. For the hunting party, it was nearing the second hour of their grand hunt, and the group was trudging through the snow heading toward the mountain pass.

Peaceful was one adjective you might use to explain the weather. White snowflakes drifted down, the whisper of the wind and whisk of the trees could be heard, and various wildlife hooting and growling in the distance. It was the perfect weather for a hunt, but who was being hunted? Jalar the Worst? Or the hunting party led by the youngest Cole.

Aryn Cole was an unassuming figure. She was about as intimidating as a dead leaf. Short, small statured and bright blonde, she contained all the poise of a noble, and the wisdom of a practiced outdoorswoman. She wears green and brown, a thick tunic with tall boots and awkward snow shoes (the racket looking things). A heavy cloak with a fur collar shields her from the icy winds, yet her cheeks are red from the bite, and her hair is contained beneath a single beanie cap to show the scar over her eye. <<"Comm check.">> She calls, checking periodically (perhaps out of paranoia), their comm status. Being in the mountains, that could change at any moment.

Fully suited, with... Well the mandalorian has a rocket launcher shoulder. Because why not? This is a fine day for throwing concussion warheads around the woods, isn't it? Hadrix's armor might be better in dim light, shades of indigo, dark purple and black, ready to move when the order is called,

<<"Hadrix Kora - Comm Check">> If anyone didn't know the identity of the man behind the T-visor? Mission solved.

Ban Iskender answers Aryn with steady patience, <<"Check, my Lady.">> Continuing to trudge through the snow, hunting spear in hand, the lightly armored nobleman keeps his eyes moving, scanning the trees as the party proceeds deeper into the D'qar mountains.

Merek has taken the time to put on his suppressor armor, which covers all of him while he follows along with the hunting party. He does check the switch on an EL-718, which he brings forward while he places that weapon into both hands. He does tap on the wrist gauntlet he wears which has a wrist laser on it, the helmet opening to that faceplate, orange HUD looking to take in the place, and looking to assist.

Vena was looking at Hadrix, <<Is...that a rocket launcher?>> she asks him with a chuckle. Then the Chiss shakes her head as she smoothes her hair back into the collar of her armor and then affixes her helm. <<Don't answer that.>> she adds to the Mandalorian that she's met before. She stands near him, looming along side with her height. She was here to hunt. And maybe get her ass kicked, but, that was life.

Freedom; while Evennia Leven, in truth, wasn't bound tightly while working for her former employer... there were times when she had to fly because she was told to. Now? She flies when she wants to, where she wants to, as /often/ as she wants to. The Empress of the Void is free to rule her stars, and of late, she's been among them quite a bit.

It was during one of those very trips that she'd heard tale of the Hunting Festival, and like many things that are dangerous... it just sounded like /fun/ to her. So she's here, geared and armed accordingly, and looking nearly as short as Aryn due to standing a couple paces away from Hadrix. <<"Evie Leven, Check.>>

Sajin hefts his bowcaster up. He's wearing his power armor which really isn't camoflaged at all. Instead it was decked out in the Royal colors of family Vernni, the ruling clan of Drik. Dark Grey and Yellow, including his thick leather cape. The Hapan's booted feet crunched along in the snow as he moved, spread out a bit from the others. <<"I can hear you...">> The king informs the Aldaranian Princess.

COLD. "I am telling you," nattered Adalberto Ildefonso Odessa, regal in bearing if hunched in posture, to the closest individual nearby. Unfortunately for Merek, it was him. "It is not appropriate for the weather to be so cold in this manner. For my face, it is freezing! Do you not see the icicles!" There were no icicles on his face, to which he pointed, his expression wide-eyed and harsh. "ICICLES!" Berty Odessa was not equipped for a hunt. He was still wearing a suit. A suit that was crumpled and stained and was likely the only clothes he wore. They were not suited for the cold. None of this was suited for the cold. But alas, the promise of a free meal and far too many snifters of wine had instilled unfortunate amounts of bravado in the older fellow and, following profound lies about his talent as a hunter back on Fest and his talent at braving the cold, had landed him in the hunting party.

What followed was two hours of endless complaining to everyone who was nearby about how cold it was.

"Are we done? Can we go home? My feet, they ache so! I wish for a meal! A large meal! One not filled with rat!" Right, cardboard box living. "A succulent meal befitting my station!"

Bringing up the rear is a time-honored Hutt Tradition, one which the otherwise unconventional Hutt named Mak holds dearly. He doesn't seem to be particularly bothered by the cold weather, nor particularly in need of snow shoes. Rather, he simply wriggles his way forward through the snow, one mighty stomach contraction at a time, as he huffs and puffs and endeavors mightily to keep up.

"What's everybody in such a dagblasted hurry for? That's my question. Why don't we all slow down to a nice... comfortable..."

Distracted by the somewhat flamboyant vagrant who seems to be walking almost as slowly as he is, Mak peers with a skeptical look on those bulbous, bulging yellow eyes. Judging by how bloodshot they are, either he hasn't slept enough, or he's slept too much. Either way, he hasn't slept the exact right amount.

"Lord Floofington here's got a point!" Mak complains to nobody in particular. "When we gonna kill this ornery critter, huh? I ain't had any snacks since we STARTED this crummy hike!"

Aryn takes in a deep breath, pausing in her steps. It isn't clear that this stop is made out of exasperation, but it is. The voices of the others carry, and her eyes shut for the moment as she tries to think of peaceful things. "Mother have mercy.." She says softly, her words turning to fog under the weight of the cool, icy air.

With everyone checked in OR accounted for, the short blonde turns back. Before she can get a word out, there's a distant popping noise, followed by a WHIP-CRACK of a slugshot before a tree explodes into splinters and begins to fall with a warning, creaking noise. Suddenly, more of these pops are heard from a distance, and the WHIP-CRACK of passing rounds thunk against the snow covered ground or impact nearby trees spraying bark, wood splinters, or icky sap. "GET DOWN!" Screams Aryn from the front of the hunt, who finds cover behind a fallen tree and ducks down.

<<"Long rifle, Long rifle, this is Cole Group. We're taking small arms fire. What group is near our location?">>

A brief static before everyone can hear. <<"Uhh, there's no other groups out there with you. Please advise...?">>

"CAN ANYONE SEE ANYTHING?!" Aryn yells out over the WHIP-CRACK of more rounds.

<<"Then I will not say that it is a Kuat Drive Yards Concussion Munitions delivery System.">> Of all things to happen the big man turns towards Evie when he notes her presence, and points at her like he was pointing a gun, a 'chk-chk' sound coming over comms.

Tell your friends, warn your neighbors. The Mandalorian is carrying a ship-grade launcher, and he has several shells for it strapped along his body on a bandolier.

For a sweet moment in the force he is peace. He's going to run in the woods, expend ammunition, possibly fight something. The rage is there. Always there deep down. Then trees explode and and a slug flattens on his chest plate, turning him as he drops to one knee, a flood of signals filling his AR systems,

<<"Twenty contacts, camo equipment, coming from the west. Cover positions!">> The rocket launcher is up, target searching now. "One may either slow down or speed up, sir," Ban notes with frosty courtesy to the Hutt's complaint. "The desire to slay our quarry and conclude the hunt without undue delay would recommend the latter-" Any further words are cut off by the outbreak of slugthrowers whining through the air. "Damnable slugs," Ban curses as he drops for cover, seeing little of use. After a moment, he amends to to the curse. "No slight intended to the Hutt." Hadrix's report draws a sharp exhale. "A significant ambush, this."

Merek looks through the macrobinoculaurs which he keeps with him to the direction of what he thinks that he sees. He does maneuver into dodging while he sweeps along the snow, lifting up his weapon afterwards. <"We have a group in white approaching location and using cover. Anyone have an extra blastech ammo pack?"> He begins lining up with the sights on that pistol.

<<Looks like they've got some boys in white on their tails.>> Vena states as she looks out at things. She gives a grimace behind her visor and then gives a nod to Hadrix. Let's do this! She makes sure she's got everything as they move.

Evie's been keeping the parts of her psyche that have been escaping from time to time on the inside pretty well as of late, and today... is no different. At least so far. Instead, the old instincts kick in as she finds herself under fire, even if indirectly. There's a spin to her side and she positions herself between Hadrix and the foes spotted, not afraid to use the better-armored man as cover... and provide him more firepower in return. It's a well-practiced manuver, and one that sees an arm extended around the big guy, almost as if she's trying to reach out and smack one of the apparant foes. That's not entirely wrong, she's just aiming to do just that, but with a wrist-mounted laser. << Negative, no BlasTech here, uh, you. Guy with the voice. >>

<<"Hadrix is correct.">> Sajin says seeing much the same thing he is with a very similar HUD set up to the Mandalorian. He crunches his way in the snow to move behind some cover, bringing the big bowcaster to bare. <<"I don't get it. You go to hunt a terrible monster and all of a sudden you get people trying to kill you instead? Nah. Something ant right here.">> Reguardless, the King of Drik readies himself to do battle with the company of men heading their way. He tosses an Ammo Pack to Merek. <<"You can buy me more later, kid.">>

Adalberto Ildefonso Odessa didn't need to be told twice. "THE TREES ARE EXPLODING!" he shrieked, his voice about three octaves above what would be considered 'manly', 'dashing', or 'not panicking'. Weighing up the pros and cons of dirtying his suit further versus possibly dying in this forest of exploding trees, discretion won out against valour and he hit the deck.

COLD. Instant regret. "it is even colder down here!" was the quiet screaming from a face buried in a pile of snow, and seemingly shuffling down deeper and deeper into a ditch like a lothmole-person.

At least he was wearing white like a good snow ninja. That'd help, right?

Right?

“DadGUMMIT! Kanjiklub's finally tracked me down!"

The Hutt grabs his hat, as if he's preparing to sprint off quickly enough that holding it down would be necessary. Fumbling around with his other hand, he attempts to locate the spare blaster that he frequently, but not always, forgets to pack on his trusty old leather snackholder (bandolier).

"They think I'm payin' 'em back for centuries of ENSLAVEMENT, they can just THINK AGAIN! I'd rather DIE than give up money!"

Still fumbling, Lord Makooja has not yet managed to locate his Trusty Blaster. Surely he didn't forget it again, not after Last Time?

"Hey, uh... Slicky Boy... you mind helpin' me out here? Looks like Lefty didn't put my BLASTER in the right POUCH, curse his buns!"

Vex ducks and covers with the best of 'em, really. She's somewhere near the back, where Mak is, uh, walking? We'll go with walking. It takes a moment after the shots whiz by for her to actually pop her head up to take a look around, a hurried examination of her surroundings revealing only what others have already mentioned. Her head turns to look for Slick, the black-scaled Trando that she uses as a meat shield, and quietly wonders why she bothers to keep him around at this stage. She heaves a sigh, helmetted head turned toward Mak as her shoulders give an unenthusiastic shrug. "White people, am I right?" She asides to him dryly. "Always in such a hurry..." She mutters to herself.

Her gloved hand moves to retrieve a weapon from its safety-bound home, prepared to fire back as soon as an order is given.

Slick got a little lost. Of course, when the blaster bolts start flying and everyone is screaming, he promptly comes bullrushing through the foliage without a hint of subtlety. Slick, by the way, is Sshylisk, the large armoured Trandoshan Meat Shield. He boots thump and squish muck and mud and probably some insect that really didn't deserve to exist any way until he comes pounding directly before Vex and Mak.

He then promptly stands in front of the pair. Well. He stands more in front of Vex. It's not for lack of trying that he's making himself a target for Mak's sake too. It's just that, well. Mak's big. Bigger than he is. It's hard.

<<"Yessss, Bossssman. Bosssslady. Sssstay crouched.">>

Aryn was thankful that no one was hit in their initial assault, but part of her wanted to believe that this was a mistake. It was another hunting party, whose comms and tracker were effected by the mountains, and this was just a big misunderstanding. "Mother save me.." She says, standing up from her cover foolishly and trudging ahead of the group. Much further ahead, in fact. "HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD YOUR FIRE!" She screams, her voice not the sound of a soldier but a small woman; one who everyone could see waving her hands for them to cease fire. "YOU FIRE ON A NOBLE HUNTING PARTY! STAY YOUR ARMS, CEASE FIRE!"

They respond like a firing line, their rifles smoking all at once. The rounds WHIP-CRACK toward Aryn, hitting the trees, the dirt, and even smacking her in the stomach to carry her backward and to the ground. She lands hard in the snow, crying out in anguish as tears form. Frightened, scared even, she scrambles to put her back to a rock. <<"They intend to kill us..">> Aryn informs the others. <<"Please.. defend yourselves. To arms!">>

20 men in white begin closing the distance, 100yds out, 50yds to Aryn's position.

He brought the rocket launcher. He intended to use it. So he lines up a shot at that firing line. Lines it up and focuses his AR system. A moment to consider, and then a squeeze of of the firing stud.

Jik? He was so close. A couple more jobs. Two weeks. Retirement in two weeks. He was two old for this shavit. Now he was going to get his last big score, take the easy work. Lucile and he had it planned. The trip to Chad, then Kuat... Then home. Home at last.

Poggi and Luc are flung clear by Jik's death. So many pieces. A moment of stark illumination. A crimson sun from their targets location.

"Is that a kriffin' concuss--" KRA-KRIFFING-BOOM

Back where he kneels in the snow, letting the launcher swing back on it's sling so that he can draw his rifle out? Hadrix really wants to be in his bunk. With Lozen.

For reasons.

Really good ones.

Ban Iskender peers warily toward the twenty foes Hadrix and others had called out, getting a fair idea of their disposition. "No initial casualties, a clear ambush, but we should be able to get Her Highness out un-" Annnnd Aryn is standing up and waving her arms, thinking it's some misunderstanding, "-noticedWHAT ARE YOU DOING, MY LADY?" Then, Hadrix launches a concussion missile at the enemy, and Ban launches himself out of hiding afterward, seizing whatever mommentary distraction a GIANT EXPLOSION inspires to come to close quarters with the nearest of the foes. Yes, he brought a spear to a gunfight.

Merek lifts up the gauntlet to take the pack thrown to him, with a nod to Sajin, then he places that into a pocket on the plate of that armor while he begins to fire on the position of the enemy. The fog really is not doing him favors while all his shots swing into it. He flicks a switch on the blaster so he can position that aim. "Thank you," he says then to Sajin as well as to Evie.

<<GOING IN!>> Vena almost skrees over the comms. Violence and stabbing. One of the things that the old Chiss loved SO VERY MUCH. The woman in her armor goes charging at one of the Rist Assassins and it is DEFINETLY their unlucky day. The woman makes quick work of dispatching them. A bright line of crimson staining the hilt of her daggers after she's done.

There's a couple moments of staring as Hadrix /delivers the payload./ Even a bit of applause. Man, she missed the kind of carnage that Mandalorian could deliver...

...but while he can attack from a great distance, she needs to get closer. Get closer, and maybe even draw some targets away from Aryn. It's pretty clear that their leader of the day is the target. Or just the loudest. That won't last.

Slamming into a tree which serves as both breaks to her dash through the snow and cover, she spins and aims. "Didn't you HEAR her? You're in the presence of ROYALTY, and this EMPRESS is going to shoot ALL of you!"

...and she does just that, as the red beam of energy extends from her wrist and slams into one of her foes. It's not a killshot, but it's a hit... and a hit /always/ feels good. Sajin braces himself for the power of the bowcaster, taking a moment to aim and let a loud report and flash mark that he's gone on the offensive. He missed. Moving forwards in order to catch up with Aryn and close the distance between him and the usurpers. He checks the sighs, noticing it's gone a little off center with the cold and wet of the snow here on D'Qar.

There, buried in the snow as all hell literally broke loose around him, was Berty Odessa. He was cold. He was wet. Wet from the snow. It wasn't raining, and he'd emptied his bladder three times on this walk already. Lament! Oh the wailing! "I was promised food and wine and joy but ALAS and ALACK, here I am, poor Adalberto, buried in the snow preparing for my impending DOOOOOOM!" Lament, wail, kvetch! Thus was the fate of Berty Odessa, at the end of his short and action-packed life of fifty-two years.

But wait. What is this! Upon his lamentations amidst the doom and gloom he rolled upon a small thing in his pocket. It was a little thing, a shiny tube with a handle sticking out of it. Sniffing it from his pocket, he lifted his head, ignored his mottled concealer, and regarded it with curiosity. "A blaster!" he cried. "My survival is at hand!" Not rising from his prone position, he aimed the tiny little Q2 at a vague shape in the forest (your guess is as good as mine if it's an enemy, a tree, or Aryn Cole) and cried out, "Ahai! Your doom is here!"

THLOOOMP.

Oh Berty, Berty, Berty, you've fallen victim to one of the classic blunders! Did you forget that blasters need something in them in order to fire?

"I AM CROUCHED, DAGGGGNABBIT!"

The corpulent Hutt tries his best to adjust himself. He's a bit too big for his bandolier, and most of the pouches are full of snacks and chewing t'bacc.

The awkwardness of Mak trying to wobble his bulky flesh while Sshylisk digs around in his bandolier can not be adequately described in words. But it looks a bit like an action figure stuck in a glob of melting ice cream, if that helps.

Eventually, it gets too much for Mak as wel.

"Nevermind... SCREW IT! VEXIE PIE, SLICKY BOY, cover me while I run up and give these sumbitches my best SATUNDA PUNCH!"

He begins slowly crawling toward the enemy, his fist outstretched before him.

He's uh... gonna be a while.

Vex watches in abject horror as Slick gets elbow-deep in Mak's fatty folds in his assistance, her horrified expression kept from view by the helmet she wears. "... This is why I need therapy, you realise. This, right here?" She points toward the two of them, clearly speaking to her trandoshan side kick. "This is why." She reitterates. And then? Then Mak is off like a shot!

A slow, rotund shot. She grunts softly, just imagining those slimy creases, a subtle 'huuuhrgh' noise heard by those close enough to catch it. It is the gentle heave of the exotic Vex. Around then, distracted by the horrors that shall be played on a loop for the rest of her natural life etched into her memory along with all other traumas she's encountered in her short life, she lifts her pistol to begin firing. In between the shots ringing out, 'hhuuuulg' or 'ghhhauu' punctuates the pulling of that trigger.

Slick just stands in place after Mak charges in. "Don't underssstand, Bossslady, but that'ssss why you're the Bosssslady. Maybe you're hungry. Have a Mufkin after the fight issss over.".

Well, to be more precise - he stomps his feet shoulder length apart and leans forwards - apparently prepared to absorb the kinetic impact of any blaster bolts or slugs that are heading his way. There's probably a thousand better ways to 'cover' someone. Like, say, helping them find cover. Providing covering fire. Being useful.

No. See. Slick has plans.

In order to find cover, one must be the cover.

His D.D.C. Defender blaster is hauled up - the trigger guard conspicuously missing - and he swings the blaster in the direction of the people armoured in white. He doesn't talk - unless you consider the excited heaving hissing breath that's occasionally loud enough to trigger the mic to click on for a moment or two before being filtered out again - but he does provide a better target than those people that are.. Taking cover. He squeezes the trigger once, and a red bolt fires from the long-barreled D.D.C. Defender, impacting one of the white assassin's in the chest and knocking him flat. Of course, Slick was already compensating for his notoriously happy trigger finger - so the second bolt goes screaming over the already fallen assassin.

"<<Four..>>"

He's then stomping forwards, <<"Ssssstay behind me, Vex. Besssst cover is over their dead bodiesssss.">> Is the clipped statement.

Aryn is pinned down, and if all the loud fire, kicked up dirt, and splintered wood wasn't enough to convey that, her screaming was when her ears were reduced to the ringing noise of rounds passing over her. Bits of her garb get snagged by the rounds, leaving steaming holes and open gashmarks on her arms and legs.

Meanwhile, the blaster fire retaliated by the hunting party gives halt to the Rist Assassins. Those who rush forth to engage in close quarters find that the bipedal human-like assassins are agile, and annoying good at fighting. Those at range find that they're decent marksman!

Aryn manages to peek around her cover, using her influence over the force to encourage one of these assassins to bash their head against a tree. It's a sudden motion that makes no sense, but they fall over and curl up on the ground, holding their bleeding head.

15 Healthy targets remain, and 1 really injured one seeing stars.

<"Val payt'oyayc mar'eyir vercopaanir o'r'val ijaat'kyr'am. Val'tion'ad partaylir rejorhaa'ir be'val'mandokar, be'tion?tuur te'ca?nara olaror; val'epan ba'dinuir'an..."> Hadrix has already set his launcher back on its sling and is standing, drawing a chromium plate hilted vibrosword - the etching and design work on it looking like the fee for it likely would have fed a small colony.

Fancy Ass Mando.

<"Gehat'ike oyacyir'bat. Shi'Mando'ade olaror lo'eyn'gev."> Stalking forward, Hadrix is in the air, carried on the jets of his pack to land boots first on the chest of a would be assassin, the tip of his blade crunching into the bone of his targets sternum. Twisting and weaving into something like a ballroom maneuver as another attempts to butt stock him, bringing a hand up as if to twirl his partner to deflect a slug with an armored pauldron. His externals click on, volume boosted,

<"COME TO ME WORMS!"> A quick flip of his sword and the blade is jammed between the eyes of the man he rode down. The old rage is here. A black pit in the force. Voice roaring over his externals as he twists and draws the blade back in an arch of blood and subsonic vibrating durasteel.

Ban Iskender seems a touch.. vengeful, as he sprints after one of the assassins firing at the Princess who had led them all out here to honor the last Princess and kill an evil cat. Was that so much to ask? One of the Rist doesn't move fast enough and Ban's first spear thrust takes them in the leg, dropping the rifleman to the snowy ground, where a swift change of grip drives the hunting spear downward, impaling the assassin, and killing them instantly.

Merek looks to Berty when it looks like a few of them will target him. He then turns on his feet while he positions to sweep him away from two blaster bolts that come their way, then he dances to the side away from it. He then flicks the charge pack while he brings up the pistol. He fires two fast shots with that red energy that strikes clean into one, orange metal searing with smoke while he's taken into the snow.

The man begins to back up where Berty Odessa is at with a nod, beginning to take a defense position while he keeps his weapon up. "You alright!?"

When the slugs are fired in her direction? Evie drops down and behind the tree. Lucky for her, because the top half of the tree that she'd used for cover becomes SO MANY SPLINTERS when the assassins shoot where she was.

"HA! You missed! You couldn't hit me if I was standing right in front of you and helping you aim!" she calls out, before leaning to finish her target... only to see him dead. Or at least lying there and looking dead. "Oh, COME ON!" she grumps loudly, before quickly trying to find a new target and firing off a shot.

It's a miss. "...that's okay, Evie" she reminds herself. "You can't hit them all. You've got to leave a little bit of the glory for Hadrix and the others..." Yes... it was a... planned... miss. Really. Nobody can get her to say otherwise.

Fixing the issue with his bowcaster's sight, the King of Drik brings the heavy long range weapon to bear once again. He still presses forwards, catching up to Ban and Aryn just as his sights find another attack. A loud crack and a flash before the heavily charged quarrel slams without predjudice into one of the enemy. It paints the white they wear and the snw on the ground with blood and guts and their body is cracked intwain by the violent explosion. Wookiee weapons were not known for their lack of impunity reguarding the amount of carnage they delt. <<"Princess Aryn, are you alright?">> Asks Sajin calmly enough. He's seen enough action in his day to make it seem like it was 'Just another day.'

Berty Odessa's face did the opposite of 'turn that frown upside down'. That visible gleam of his pearly whites was masked by the shocked and aghast expression on his face as he looked at the shiny little tube of pewpews. "This implement has FAILED me!" he erupted, a cross between mad and terrified. "I aim it at the assailaint in order to dispense hot lasery death and all it does is THOOMPH. Absurd!" It was through sheer luck (thank you, chance roll) that he saw on the ground in front of him a small cylinder that sorta matched a hole in the bottom of the handle. "This must be the answer to my puzzle!" Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he slotted the power cell into the bottom of the gun.

Upside down.

Empowered by a firearm, ready to dispense righteous justice, Berty stood. The wind caught his jacket and his hair, swishing them dramatically. His face was smudged in JUST the right way to add that hardened character actor vibe to him. His expression? Cocky. Smirking. This man was a super spy, hide your daughters. Levelling the Q2 and holding it sideways like a gangsta (missing that the power cell had flung out to the side), in the deepest smoothest and most Festian accented voice imaginable, he said, "When you meet your god, tell him that Adalberto Ildefo-"

The slug caught him in the stomach and sent him back to the ground. There was a pause. Then there was the loudest, highest-pitched shriek of pain possible from an adult human male. It didn't stop. In fact, all that was added was crying. Sobbing. Sobbing and screaming and whining and a complete inability to comprehend just what had happened was his polite and well-thought-out response to Merek. What a wuss.

"That's it boys! Keep a-blastin' 'em! I'm gonna FINISH this dang fight!"

As Mak slowly inches closer to the fight, there are a few general indications of confusion coming from the general direction of the enemy. After all, it's not every day one gets attacked by a Pugilistic Hutt.

Mostly because those who do, don't live to tell the tale.

Or maybe the confusion has less to do with the fact that Mak seems to be crawling across the ground in slow motion with his fist stretched out, and more to do with the fact that he's got his bandana pulled up over his face. For some reason. Some reason that wouldn't make sense to mere bipeds.

"Come on down here, ya PHUKKOS! You've gone and tangled with THE MASKED OUTLAW!"

One of the Rist Assassins seems to be so confused that he just sort of stands there, apparently hypnotized by Mak's bulbous, snakelike eyes.

He's all the way up to the point where Mak clobbers him over the head with one of those massive, pudgy hands of his, crunching the man's noggin up properly.

As Berty begins on his ... whatever that is, Vex only stares toward him with a mix of distaste and confusion writ across her fine features. At least, that can be assumed. The judgment is palpable, but her true expression is left to the imagination. Vex takes in a long breath and lets it out in a sigh at his antics, eyes squeezing shut as the wailing begins. "You're worse than a fussy child on a long shuttle ride! Knock it off! I can't hear Mak's fat folds slappin' through my nightmare rattled brain and I'm startin' to miss it! That's how damned annoyin' you are!" She hollers toward Berty, before her attentions are drawn away by Slick getting in the way of everything, and Mak slug-marching his way into the fray with fists drawn.

What the actual kriff is going on here?

"Man, you don't pay me enough for this shavit, Mak..." She mutters under her breath before her pistol is once again lifted and some shots are let loose in the general vicinity of those crafty white-clad assassins, sending two of them sprawling into the snow where that gloriously glinting white rather hurriedly stains a bright red where they fell. Then Mak starts yelling.

Vex sighs.

"That dastardly Masked Outlaw strikes again," She says it with all the gusto of a parent that's had to watch the same Saturday morning cartoons over and over again, reciting the lines along with their over-excited child in brazen mockery of the heroes they cheer on.

The Defender keeps kicking in Slick's hand as he advances. He might not even be trying to aim anymore, he's just taking enough shots until he can legitimately claim that 'Yes, we had to get into melee combat'. That's not to say he's probably trying to hit someone, but, you know. Melee jitters.

Or it might be the fact that Hadrix literally rocket-jumped into his field of view. Vex can see his head tracking Hadrix as if he's locked on, only snapping back after the Mandalorian lands. He lets out an audiable excited hiss through the comms - maybe there was a slurp there, you'll never know over the static - he's sniggering. <<"Bosssslady, don't be ssssad. We'll get closssse enough sssssson. Then you can get ssssstuck in like the Bosssssman.">> He does not comment on the sweet music on the comms.

Aryn is pinned down still, earning the ire of the Elder House Rist still. Despite all the missed shots, Aryn cannot move. She stays hunkered down! <<"They're not hitting me, if that counts as alright!">> Aryn's ears are bleeding, but she's smart enough to stay down!

Nine assassins remain, and they've fallen back to a more defendable location. A distant roaring noise is heard though, and Aryn turns her head instinctively toward the sound. <<"Jalar the Worst is closing in. He's smelled the blood of the fallen.">>

How do you enrage an akk-dog off the leash? Ignore it. Don't challenge it. Hadrix's form is bestial at best, hunched, shoulders thrown wide. One hand a fist and the other with blade turned out as the T-Visor focuses on another target, brackets forming in AR.

<"Evie, Vena, preparing or long range. Request cover"> Barked out but somehow not unkind in his delivery, his head snaps up to the roar. More weapons moving. Sword sheathed... and the big rifle pulled off the walking weapon locker's back.

<"Setting up."> Because reloading the rocket launcher is going to take a bit. This is easier.

Ban Iskender hears the roar and Aryn's report, and breathes warm mist with a terse exhale. <<"Then let's give him more to chase,">> the soldier opines, stabbing at the hip on one rifleman, then spinning away to stab into the abdomen of another. "If you start running now, you might make it far enough by the time the Manka is done with the others, gentlemen."

Merek looks to the people while he then listens to the call of the creature. He nods a bit while he pats Berty, <"Medic, we have injured. I'm engaging in protection."> The man then takes a moment to position standing before the man while he spins his pistol with three shots. That red energy begins to swing, each of them managing to strike true with the enemy, their gear smoking with the orange-like light glow coming from it. Then he begins to look for his ammo pack while he speaks, <"Reloading!">

<<On it, Had>> Vena states to the Mando over the comms and starts to help out with the dissection of whoever is in her way on trying to down the assassins that are out to get Aryn. "Just /DIE/ already!" the older Chiss states as she stabs one in the throat and then kicks them back out of the way. <<They're thinning out!>> she reports.

< "On it, big guy. Strafing on three.. two... ONE!" >

'You've got balls the size of my ship, let's hope you're not splattered all over her'. Evie was told that once. It's not something that she's going to back down from. Charging out from her cover, she starts a path to cross in front of Hadrix -- yelling loudly as she goes -- "You chumps oughtta run while you still can, you've got the EMPRESS OF THE VOID, the MASKED OUTLAW, and ..." Awkward silence. So, she stops for a second, and fires her laser. BAM! Another hit. "See? If you even THINK his name, someone gets shot!" ...and running towards another tree for cover.

< "Hadrix, we've got to make a cool nickname for you. Just saying." >

Sajin lets the bowcaster fall to his chestplate, held there by a single point sling attached to the stock of the weapon. Stalking forwards towards the Rist Assasins and their dwindling number, the large King in the big scary power armor draws the equally massive and intimidating ebon Ryyk blade from his back. His cape sways and flutters with his movements. <<"Run, now... while you still can.">> He continues to move slowly towards them, the edge of his blade dropping to the ground and sliding sharply in the snow as he approaches. <<"Hadrix... get the beast with the rocket first... then I'm going to town.">>

Tears and screaming and wailing, if anyone was attracting the creature that was supposed to be their lunch, it was Berty Odessa. He had zero experience being shot, by blaster or slugthrower or anything of the sort. He was, however, not too bad a painter, and he was using talents he didn't know he had to dye the snow red. "I think my organs are falling out!" were the words he managed to squeak in between shouts and cries and tears. "I need a doctor! A medic! A chaplain! Oh I am doomed! Dooo-hooooo-hooooo-hoooooooooomed!" If the bullet doesn't kill him, it'll be the melodrama, 'cause it's killing me!

The Falleen with an attitude problem stands to shoot again, taking her most heroic stance. Perhaps Berty is rubbing off on her. Like a contageous disease. She fires a shot at The Worst, and then she pulls the trigger again. ... and again and again. She draws the gun to herself, staring down at it. "You've got to be kidding me..." Her head tilts back and she stares up at the heavens as though it might have the answer to life's grand question. Why? Why god? What have I done to anger you so? She takes in a long, sharp breath through her nose, before her own wailing begins.

"SLIIIIIICK!" She howls, followed by short huffs of breath, and then another long draw, "SLI-HI-HIIIICK!"

"Ha ha HAR! G'won! GIT! Run away, phukkos! Tell yer pimply-assed li'l buddies what happens when ya tangle with... THE MASKED OUTLAW!"

Mak's smile is so wide that the corners of it can be seen on either side of his bandana. The bellows from his cavernous mouth cause the bandana to suck in, and flap back out, each time he inhales or bellows out a new gloat, each less likely than the last.

"That's gettin' 'em, boys!" Mak seems to call everyone 'boys.' Even Berty.

As he turns his back toward the Still Ongoing Fight, Mak looks down at the Head Guts on his pudgy fist. Rather than look disgusted, he raises is to his cavernous mouth, sticks it behind that bandana, and gives it a little taste. Apparently it doesn't meet with his gourmand standards though, because he quickly begins fumbling around in his bandolier for something to take away the taste.

This time, however, he finds it: A giant can of Old Pugno's Classic Chewing T'Bacc. He reaches the head gut hand into the can, and pulls out a Hutt fist-sized ball of chaw, and shoves it into his mouth behind his lip.

"Awright boys... I got 'em on the run fer ya. Do me a favor and *PTUI!* clear the rest of these grimy bastards out, will ya? I'll be on the ship, gettin' a nice massage."

As he moves slowly away from the fight, Mak's trail passes right past the Somewhat Injured Odessa, and he looks down at him with pity.

"Damn, fella. You look like the ass-end of a Sphincter Beast. Maybe you'd better come with me. The boys have got this."

And off he goes, toward the ship which will inevitably pick him up at some point, leaving a trail of slime and t'bacc spit behind him.

Turning as Vex's blaster runs dry, and the wailing begins, Slick rather promptly turns his back to the enemy to give Vex his Defender. <<"Yessss, Bossslady. Do not worry. I will keep it bussssy while you take sssshotsss.">> There's a whole lot of S's in there, but he thrusts the pistol out to her before he turns and begins run stomping his way towards the large, well. It's a Beast. An animal. Slick doesn't really know what to call it, other than hopefully 'More points than the Assassin'.

Engage the Beastie in melee. Thinks Slick. This is a great idea. Slick. He's already swinging his claws at the thing - missing twice, but he seems to be rather intent on his target. Also, he's hissing down the comms again.

Assassins bleeding on the ground are pounced first as sporadic blaster bolts miss the agile Manka which ROWL---/ROOOOOOOOOWLWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLL/! The first assassin is torn to shreds, bits of blood and meat, and legs going every which way. Then another and another. When Aryn sees her opportunity to run away, she slips and falls, but forces herself back up to spring back to her group. The Manka pounces after her, sliding across the dirt, its swipe missing with a wave of snow, dirt, and shattered wood. "SHOOT IT!" She screams, turning back to 'pull' its head against the ground!

The remaining Rist assassins disappear into the woods, leaving the hunting party to deal with Jalar the Worst.

Old mantras continue to fall from the former child soldier's lips. A lifetime of phrases, mnemonic devices, and savage negative reinforcement have made these childhood memories that most associate with alphabet songs and nursery rhymes used to help remember how to tie shoes. Thankfully Gripper is here to turn off his externals when she hears it coming and he mutters inside his helmet.

"Only forward, no retreat, no surrender, blood of allies is the line in the sand, blood of the enemy is the prize. The scream of their end. The surge of our victory. I fear no death, for I am death incarnate." Pivoting to track the beast's movement - a data cup moving down over his bionic eye, feeding targeting comp data directly to him.

The droid hooked onto Hadrix's back ponders... were she human would she shudder?

SHOOONK

The heat shimmer of his weapon is visible in the warbling of reality caused, the steam of vaporized water from the snow flash melting around him and then in the line of the miniature sun expelled from the forge-glowing plasma chamber. Even Hadrix is kicked back slightly as the concussion of the heavily modified weapon shakes the very ground and burns away hair as it parts the creature's do, and gives it a nice tan down the center.

Glorious.

No sooner does the Manka begin gorging on the wounded, and Aryn breaks her cover to run, than Ban Iskender is dashing over bloodied snow to try and drive the monstrous feline murder machine away from the Princess and get perforated cloak, with thrusts of his hunting spear, at the eyes. He doesn't manage to bloody the beast, alas

Merek looks to the incoming Jalar while he takes a moment to check the wrist, then the helmet of his shifts upon his features fully while he takes a moment to shift his attention in full. The man lifts up his pistol while he begins to walk forward, pulling the trigger to sear into the hide of the creature. Then he lifts up his weapon, clicks on release, and as the pack falls from it, he then loads another while he begins to charge up his weapon. To anyone looking, the trooper looks like he might have military training.

<<Welp, that's a big guy.>> Vena states. But, the Chiss doesn't have any probably trying to stab the thing. And stab she does. Though her second and third swings go wide as she attacks.

< "Getting ready to go airborne, everyone. I'll be your eyes in the skies if the beastie tries to run." > Evie offers into the comms as she reaches into one of the holsters that adorn her armor, drawing the wood-handled weapon into the hand that was previously firing lasers at people. She just has to find the right perch...

Sajin watches on in some sort of Vicarious pleasure as the beast known as Jalar the Worst rips through the remaining Risk Assasins. There's a sort of crazed laugh that exits his helmet's vocorder. Then, as the others moves in and the crack of Hadrix's EZ-Snap is head, the Hapan charges forwards. Picking the blade up and raising it over his head, The King of Drik swings it down violently but the beast is faster, the edge of the ebon wookiee weapon smashing instead into the snow about the ground. Re doubling his efforts, Sajin grows and hefts he blade for a sideways swing, caching the beast with a powerful strike.

"Is this how it must end? Truly, a charmed life has been that of Adalberto Ildefonso Odessa. I have surfed the waves of Iego and lain with their angels, and lived out of a cardboard box in a dark alley on Nar Shaddaa. I have seen triumphs and failures and I have embraced the joy of life, to live, and love, and oh so much loving! For there is always enough of Adalberto Ildefonso Odessa to go around and I always get value for my money. And the food! I think the food is what I will miss the most. Or perhaps my nephews, Ryobard, and dearest, dearest Ignatius. Alas, they are too far away to pay my medical bill. No, I will miss the food when I perish. Mon Calamari seafood is ironically to die for. And Coruscanti noodles, Dantoo steak, oh! I salivate at the thought. And the coppery, wispy taste of the cocktails and beverages of the finest bars in... no, that's just blood. My mistake. But the beverages! Oh, many a night has been spent gripped by the joy such beverages bring! And the substances! To take them once again..."

Welp, blood loss = soliloquy, it looks like. Maybe someone should get on that.

Slick's world narrows into a singular focus. Adrenaline kicks in. The anticipation of violence. The chance of being horribly mauled and having his limbs turned into a chewtoy? Oh boy. This all makes it more and more worth.. Points. It's a Trandoshan thing. Don't worry about it.

He raises his arms and slams both claws forwards and downwards - catching into flesh and curling, rending and twisting before he yanks his claws away, leaving a set of slashes.

A better target. He draws blood. Thankfully his mic clicks off as he throws his head back in a screech - muffled as it is behind his helmet. Of course, then there's the hasty retort from the beast - leaving him with deep bruises through his armour from the sheer pressure of it. He's sure he felt something tear.

<<"SHAM BA LU MI LOWE!">> He decries in Dosh. Or, for anyone else. <<"SSSLSCLSK SLSLSHSRLS SLSSHSHSSLSH BA LU MI SHSL LOWE.">>. Something gets lost in translation when you're screaming the words out.

Unfortunate. He gave it a haircut. Annoying as well. Too many people crowding for area of affect. Blinking a command while the heavily modified barrel twists, extends and even trumpets slightly before the rest evens back out.

<"Copy Evie. Tracking your movement."> His helmet systems are already creating a waypoint marker to follow her. <"Vena, close range combatants - support fire inbound"> What little ice and snow around him becomes dead autumn grass, the crater in the snow filling with water the crater the heat has made.

SHOOONK

<"Medical support required for the Thespian. ASAP. He's making my wrists floppy just listening to him."> His still smiling. This was one of his favorite guns. EZ-Snap, one of the finest guns the jowled Sullustans ever made. Set with a BlasTech recycler barrel and plasma injection bolt system with a modified Arakoyd Droid Brain targeting system. Before it was an anti-personnel weapon. Now it was a man-pack turbo laser.

The blast literally craters into the monster's flank, spraying vaporized blood in a red-black mist around them, laying a macabre soot upon them. Ribs glowing and threatening to burst and cooked muscle show as the creature is pushed physically by the force of the explosion in its side.

Ban Iskender shouts, "Get the wounded back!" as the beast bounds away. Small good shouts do, though, the monster is too fast and Ban must content himself with pulling it's attention the old fashioned way: with a spear. After Hadrix's sniper blast hammers the feline's flank, Ban leaps after it, planting his spear deep into Jalar's hide twice, before it can recover.

Merek looks to the Manka as the creature swipes at him, clawing clean into that armor. With that, blood begins splattering from the man, then he places the muzzle of his weapon into that paw, while he takes two clean shots right into it, another wild while the being maneuvers back away. He then backs up with a look to Berty when it looks like he will be swiped as well, "Dodge!"

Vena's not a gunner. She hates pistols. So she's a stabber and a brawler. And she goes around stabbing this poor schlub, Jalar the Worst, anywhere that she can. She looks like she might be thrashing at it, but there's a method to the Chiss' madness.

Finally, the perfect tree. The perfect place to keep watch over the battlefield and maybe take a few pot shots at the thing while she's at it. She raises the Naboo-made weapon and prepares to be launched into the air...

• CLICK*

"Oh, COME ON!" whines Evie when absolutely nothing happens. "You'd have thought that when a gun is supposed to make you fly, it'll MAKE YOU FLY! Dave is going to hear about this!" ...because when anything that represents Naboo is a problem, it's automatically David Ironside's fault. The Empress has decided, and so it will be.

When Hadrix calls out his support fire, he pauses and waits. As soon as the blast hits, sparking and exploding against Jalar, the Hapan charges forwards once more. His massive ebon blade swings in a wide arc cutting the beast deep. Imediatly following he swings the blade around his wrist before raising it high above him. Suddenly, with power and grace all in one, the blade drops and severs Jalar the Worst's head from his body. It rolls and rolls until it stops at Aryn's feet, blood in the snow. THe body collapses, spirting blood from the gaping wounds. It smelled pretty bad too.

THe Hapan stares at it a bit before poking it a few times wih the tip of his blade. <<"Come on... fight some more... Come on...">>

Dodge? Are you mad? Adalberto Ildelfonso Odessa was flat on his face, trapped in a fever dream of blood loss and memories and you, Merek Thaddeus Percival Douglas Black, want him to /dodge/? No, instead, Berty would parry. Parry by not moving and thus being mauled. Ha, take that Jalar, your claws shall now rust due to contact with human blood! Berty had already slipped past delirium into unconsciousness but now he was actually at risk of being deadified. What a crushing loss to the galaxy.

Jalar has fallen, and the battle is over. The dead litter the ground, most still smoking from blaster fire, or bleeding out into the snow. Jalar's body twitches, and settles after the last pumps of blood gush from its hastily revealed neck.

Aryn slides in next to Berty lifting her tattered CAPE to reveal her medic bag. "SOMEONE GET ON THE COMMS FOR MEDICAL TRANSPORT. GIVE THEM OUR COORDINATES, TELL THEM IT'S URGENT." She says, thinking her voice is just loud enough over the ringing in her ears. She's screaming though. Meanwhile, her focus becomes Berty, sustaining his vitals. The victory goes to all, especially the King of Drik. Long may he reign!