Log:Tatooine: An Unlikely Call for Help

An Unlikely Call for Help

OOC Date: April 26, 2022
Location: Beggar's Canyon, Tatooine
Participants: Xavier Harcourt (GM), Sumi Kora, Nora Frayus, Hadrix Kora, Hahtavi Kora, Kin-Li Kel, Netep Muri, Raissa Taivu, Tamsin Cas, Khalim, Vorcassh, Tovani Enno

-- Xavier (GM) --

The people of Beggar's Canyon greeted the good samaritans in the customary fashion: with rapidly closed, ramshackle shutters and dark, uninviting grottos. Only one of the countless denizens has come out to meet with those answering their call for help. He is an old human man made to look all the older by the dark, leathery skin sagging on a shrinking, hunched frame. Tanned alive by Tatooine's twin suns, he's no less spry for it as he hobbles towards the group.

"Yer all from the city, eh?" One piercing eye looks over the group while the other, fogged and unfocused, drifts off to the side uselessly. "Thought there'd be more of ya. Welp, I ain't complainin'. Ye here to deal with them Hand fellers, I'll take you to 'em. Kinda."

With a hop and a hobble, the old man starts to lead the group down the canyon, forgetting to introduce himself until they're past what could count as the main thoroughfare. "Name's Kota. Was me that sent the call out, wot. Most of the others didn't want to but too many have gone missin' or dead from these sorts. Can't take vehicles. They see's 'em from miles away."

As they walk, he points with a four-fingered hand down the canyon -- which has one figure more than the other hand has. Kota would be the first to boast he has more fingers than teeth. "This way. "

-- Sumi --

<"We are no different from vehicles.. just slower."> Sumi intones in a stoic sort of manner. She walks regardless of her feelings on the matter, swaggering from the weight of her armor and the pull her cape experiences each time a strong gust passes over them. She is thankful for her helm, the bit of the desert is unkind to lips, often leaving them chapped and sensitive.

<"We supposed to kill these moof-milkers or what? Carrying people in the desert is a rekking pain in the ass. Better to leave them for food.">

-- Nora --

"This is why we use sunscreen," Nora murmurs to herself and, perhaps, those in her immediate vicinity when she gazes upon the sun-damaged skin of the hunched over human who has come to greet them. Subconsciously, she tugs the ruby red linen scarf that currently drapes over her pink hair a little closer to the side of her cheeks. Nora's big blue eyes peer up towards the harsh Tatooine sky, before lazily sweeping back towards the man before them.

"Mmmmh! Something of the sort, yes. No city on Tatooine, mind. And not so much a city as a... ahh, well, never mind," Nora says to Kota. She sort of shuffles out of the way of the man to let others sidle up beside her. One such sidler is Sumi Kora, a familiar looking Mandalorian (she recognizes the kitty ears) from her brief (not) bender on Nar Shaddaa.

"Perhaps we can reason with them instead, hmmmh? The pen is mightier, and all that. Though I suppose that metaphor only works if our quarry can read, hmmmh," she says. Pensive.

-- Tamsin --

Tamsin, who had made the trip from her shop at Mos Espa to the canyon, adjusted the medical bag, making certain everything she needed was in easy reach, before she doublechecked the straps on the shield she had recently added to her, almost literally, non-existent collection of armor. The goggles as well, she secured as the old man came to greet them, "Those who could come have come. With luck, we will eliminate your problem." As Koto led the way down, Tamsin moved with care but no small amount of ease. She had been spending far more time on the planet than she cared to admit. One acquired muscle memory, "Do you have any idea why they have chosen now to interfere with you? What attracts them to his particular place?"

-- Hahtavi --

Quite a few have gathered at the call for help that he knows. Now they have met up with the old man who summoned them, Hahtavi walks along with his Galaar unslung and clipped to his tactical rig. Helmet on, he stays spread out so to encourage them not to bunch up as they follow the old man through the canyon. His steps are doing better, no longer dragging his right foot as he walks.

Not saying anything. He follows along a bit behind Sumi and shares a polite nod to Tamsin as he listens to her speak up. For now this Mandalorian is looking around.

-- Netep --

Into the canyon, Chaos rode. It came in the form of a small Razalon swoop and blue-magenta-green-suited rider. Any who watched the First handful of races in the recent Swoop Circuit might recognize the colors. Netep Muri. And the thing about Netep Muri is...

It doesn't take a lot of convincing to get her to do something indubitably stupid, for sake of a worthy cause. And sometimes a lesser worthy cause, pending her current, ambient level of resting boredom. Those who know this about the petite space gypsy, perpetual wanderer, undeterred explorer, Ibhann'I-shamanesque Lorridian halfbreed ought not be surprised to find her trussed up in her very colorful swoop racing suit, astride a snazzy Razalon, converging on the assembly.

Late, tailing along after until she's inched around enough to grant herself a little time to hop off and join the party.

Those who don't know her, well, they might be wondering what her qualifications are, seein' as she didn't come armored. Barely came armed. When her ride did slow to an idling putter and she slithered on out, she didn't exactly have the bearing of an experienced soldier OR mercenary. Brazen, Socorran swagger aside, in form of crooked grin that's wielded at one and all when she flipped up the visor of her helmet.

"Wassat 'bout no vehicles? ", the dusky nomad queries, trotting on up to the old guy in charge. "See, I was thinkin', maybe it'd be easier t'rouse the Hands on out with a little...y'know. Obnoxious disturbance? Keep their attentions elsewheres?" Muri's arms fling wide, exhibiting self as 'exhibit A'.

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel seems to be messing with the swivel on the slung of what is clearly not his blaster rifle. With a soft, self-directed muttering, the lithe, lean man twists, pulls, pushes, prods, adjusts, and otherwise messes with the sling of the weapon. With only a vague awareness of his surroundings, he pulls the frayed strap over his shoulder with an irritated sigh.

He glances to Hahvati, in his position 5 meters farther down the file. His voice, distorted by the vocoder in his armor, issues: <"I have never seen a sling like this. How do you adjust the thing?"> Despite the fact his voice comes through a speaker, vague irritation is heard.

-- Hadrix --

Somehow managing quiet despite grit in the sand, and moving through the thin shadows to remove glint from his armor, Kora's Plan Besh walks with the damned gold plated long gun shouldered and his krayt scale cape covering over his left side down to the waist, hung to keep it from blocking his jetpack.

<<"They keep killing and kidnapping, I expect diplomacy will consist of which ones are still screaming when we're done and have to put boot heels on their necks.">> scuttling ahead, fractionally, and checking on updates likely to be received from Hahtavi or Sumi. Speaking over private comms to not immediately out his position.

-- Tovani --

Quite the mix of figures in this group. Tovi is already feeling the dust ingratiate itself everywhere that matters and then some. It is as if it were drawn to the breaks in clothing and armor, causing the Wroonian to do a little wiggle step as she goes. "I do not mind sand so much, but this...this is something else." Shielding her golden gaze with her hand, she along with the others are following after the old farmer. Scratch. Scritch. She gives a roll and shake of her shoulders as her lavender muave hair is thankfully only a minor issued wrapped and pinned in the braid at the back of her head.

She glances over at the Mirialian she arrivee with, "You see all that armor?" She is eyeing up the mandalorians, familiarity slippign in from every corner. "They hit hard." First hand knowledge is issued forth as the trek only serves to kick up more dust which in turn has her scratching against. "Seems oddly strange around here, no?" Her eyes take in the rocky cliffs."

-- Khalim --

The combination of in-built temperature regulation and variable pressurization make Khalim's armored form a lot less sun-doomed than one may think. Though those twin demons looming overhead try as they may. Somewhat mid-group, hanging back just far enough that conversation with Kota would be a challenge, he instead keeps an eye out as they proceed in the direction of, presumably, trouble.

The armor itself, familiar to those that may recognize such things, is of older style Republic-era manufacture. Clone trooper armor, though no longer a pristine white. Shades of emerald and grey reflect sunlight in some places, absorb it in others. A pistol, brutishly chonky, hangs at his side. As he walks at a Wroonian's side, Khalim looks to the handful of Mandalorians that have joined the group. He nods at Tovani's observation. <"Good to have around, when a clan of sand raiders decide they'd like our boots."> The area's strangeness draws a hard look around. <"They're afraid.">

-- Raissa --

Raissa is a quiet presence, the tallish figure in the Doomseeker armor is keeping her opinion on things to herself for the moment. That is until she looks over the crags and the hidey holes. <<This place is generally a hive of people...but not now. Watch out for the nervous ones that are in the canyon, a lot of barrels are poking out, they might not notice that we have eyes.>> she frowns behind the visor. <<Sadly there is just sand, I'm sure corpse mulch would be good for the locals in growing if there was soil about.>> she comments on the leaving bodies. The doctor then continues on with the other Mandalorians, keeping the rest of her thoughts to herself.

-- Tovani --

Tovani Enno says, "Wassat 'bout no vehicles? ", the dusky nomad queries, trotting on up to the old guy in charge. "See, I was thinkin', maybe it'd be easier t'rouse the Hands on out with a little...y'know. Obnoxious disturbance? Keep their attentions elsewheres?" Muri's arms fling wide, exhibiting self as 'exhibit A'."

-- Vorcassh --

Some are here for the greater good, some are here on instructions from Hutt Lords. Being a good neighbor is what The Hutt wants to start with. Trouble. If folks start none, won't be none. The Missing Hand has started some. This is why Vorcassh is here listening to the backstory from Kota. He already misses his speeder on this walk.

In the meantime, he's got a datapad in his right hand. His armored left hand strikes entries rapidly, occasionally stopping to tap at the PAC-20 on his right wrist. He's splitting attention between listening to the rest of them, Kota in particular, and finding some comlink frequencies.

-- Xavier (GM) --

"You wanna be the bait?" Kota passes a look over to Netep. "Be my guest. So long as ya got yer next o'kin all squared away. And I dunno about dipl-ah-macy. They us'lly don't do much talkin'."

The journey continues for a short while, the 'civilized' part of Beggar's Canyon growing more and more distant and giving in quickly to the natural rock formation carve by a long-lost river eons ago. Kota sets the pace: surprisingly steady for the old bugger and the group makes good time. "Yup. Four-armed feller came about two weeks ago. Said he'd scout ahead. Ain't heard from him since. S'fine an' all. Don't gotta pay 'im, but it woulda been nice if he'd made it back."

His eye slides over towards Hadrix with a with a glint. "One of 'em Hands look a lot like this big guy here. Helmet and armour and all. Talks funny. But all you offworlders talk a bit funny. No offense. Ah-haha!" A raspy, sand-throated chuckle barks through his spindly neck then concludes: "This is where we part ways."

Kota slows to a stop as they come to a large stone pillar jutting up from the cracked ground. Clearly a marker for the Beggar's Canyon territory, there is something more macabre waiting for them. There, nailed to the pillar, is the drying corpse of a Codru-ji. A thick metal spike has been hammered through his sternum with such force that the rock he hangs from has started to crack. And around his neck is a sign scrawled on a brittle, discoloured piece of wood.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

      Any poor souls who trespass against us whether it be beast or man
Will suffer the bite or be shot dead on sight by those who inhabit this land

  For this is our power and this is our kingdom as sure as the suns do burn
             So enter this path, but heed these four words:

                          You shall never return.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

-- Sumi --

At the posted warning, Sumi laughs out loud. It's genuine amusement. <"These idiots are amateurs. THAT'S it.. I've decided."> Sumi activates her jetpack, brushing out a sudden gust of sand and dust to assume a low hover. <"I'm killing all of them."> A sudden burst of energy and the propulsion of her pack carries her well beyond the warning to land out in the open, having to half-jog a few steps from the momentous landing. Brushing her cape to one side, she shows her collection of weapons.

<"HEY! NICE DECORATIONS UP FRONT, BUT I'M UNIMPRESSED. I'VE COME TO ANSWER YOUR CHALLENGE. TRY TO KEEP ME OUT! HAHAHA!">

-- Nora --

Kota doesn't seem particularly keen on talking to Nora, which is... understandable. Not everyone enjoys the sound of a spoiled and entitled noble girl prattling about in their ear. If this author may be so bold, they might even hazard that -most- do not enjoy such a thing. She ascends the rest of the way towards that macabre marker and tips her head to the side, reaching briefly out to turn the drying corpse's head this way and that with her glove-covered fingers. It leaves a bit of mouldrin' skin on her fingertips, and she unceremoniously wipes it off on the cordru-corpse's clothes.

"Well, I do suppose this rules out diplomacy. Father always said that it is difficult to reason with people who wish to kill you, and I suppose you cannot argue with that logi--"

--FWOOOOSH--

Sumi is jetpacking away from near to where Nora is standing and the young woman rests her hands on her hips. "Ah, well then. Right," she begins to say, making her way towards where the woman has landed and is hurling insults at what appears to be empty rock faces.

...Except.

"...Mmmmmh, I believe they hear you," she calls out to Sumi, and then angles her pointer finger towards the motion she spies within the rock.

"Ahhh... excuse me! Yoo hoo! Yes, I see you up there! Perhaps you might wish to come down and we can talk this over?" She's very diplomatic about it.

-- Tamsin --

As the old man...was he old though? Or had the heat of the sun simply sapped all of his youth before his years had run out? Nevermind that now, Tamsin approached the corpse, close enough to be able to read the notice, "Poets and murderers. I imagine that excites all of the women of the sort one pays for." Well, that was enough of that, as Tamsin heard the challenge being issued by the Kora Alor, and she turned away from the sun-baked corpse to try to find a place to hide. Which was entirely the sort of thing non-combatants did, yes?

-- Hahtavi --

Using his helmet's internal coms Hahtavi answers Kin-Li's question. <<"Sort it out la-ter. Use coms when you can so your voice won't ech-o down the can-yon.">> He speaks slowly and carefully to try and keep his words as clear as possible.

For his own part, Hahtavi moves pretty quietly for a man of his size wearing heavy battle armor. Kota's comment that at least one of the Hand is as large as Hadrix and outfitted similarly is noted.

When they get to the pilar and Sumi does her classic challenge, Hahtavi gets himself hidden with cover and looks up around the canyon walls. After a couple of moments his baritone comes over coms, <"They are up there. I can see them try-ing to hide a-long the rim high above us. Some of us need to get up there 'n greet them prop-er-ly.">> You can hear his grin and just know he's about to fire off his jetpack...

-- Tovani --

"By all the kriffin sand that is in my clothing....that is a most unpleasant sight." Tovani is staring at the poor once scout now hung up for viewing pleasure. There is a huffed cough as she feels the bile flavor catch at the back of her throat. She swallows slowly to keep her lunch from coming up quickly and adding to the scene. With how things are going half of it would likely be sand.

She reachs up and wipes at her mouth, dry, dusty...more sand. "Thats how this is going to go." She is already side stepping, trying to use what she can - as others are to offer a manner of cover in that moment but she's shaking out her coat to release more sand and watch as Sumi takes off into the sky, distracted from her task at hand of finding cover. The teal skinned woman is rather colorful in the setting. "I do not think we will have to wait long."

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel is silent in response to Hahtavi for a time, then a vaguely contrite answer is returned over the radio. <"Understood."> He goes silent, at least externally, and does exactly as instructed. The sling is no longer messed with, and he carries the rifle at the low ready, making the issue moot.

As the party comes to the corpse, he shakes his helmeted head as he looks to the corpse. It's hard to understand, at first, what sort of effect the dead body and scrawled message had. The question is answered presently. Over the radio link, his distorted voice still manages to sound contemptuous. <"Bullies trying to scare real fighters away. Pathetic.">

And then things happen. Sumi goes rocketing off with an /extremely/ aggressive and optimistic push forward. Netep goes rocketing past. Frankly, he looks impressed, standing there with the rifle pointing at the sand. He openly admires the woman's driving. <"Huh. Impressive.">

And then he does what a good solider does: takes cover, though the rock is much too small, and brings his weapon up, covering his sector.

-- Hadrix --

Confoundingly and consistently silent in spite of his size, Hadrix moves forward heedless of corpses and warnings they bear. Finding those points of the canyon where rocks form shadows dark enough to absorb him into them. Like a phantom the size of a grain silo walking with a smooth progression that would give him the appearance of gliding across the ground rather than walking.

<<"Sumi'alor, you're perfect.">> the chuckle deeply entrenched in the broken voice with its posh accent while he hunkers at the edge of the clearing, watching, thumb caressing a dial to begin the pressurization chamber to begin forcing tibanna into a compressed liquid, coating the foot long durasteel bolt racked into place and ready to be launched.

Kneeling now, resting the concave shape of his cheek guard against the aurudinium coated stock of the massive wookiee rifle - HUD lighting up with information from the specialized targeting systems built into the already art-like construction of the weapon. A pressure gauge indicator lights up in his peripheral vision and the butt of the cannon is settled into the specially added groove in his right shoulder pauldron.

<<"Venticred says they try to shoot you from cover and then they make you chase them.">> following where Hahtavi has directed vision too, adjusting how the cannon rests, <<"I could always send them an invitation too.">>

From wherever the hell he's managed to conceal himself. Next thing you know he'll rise out of the sand like some madman whose built himself a cult following in the sands of Tatooine. Because who chooses a swamp? Seriously.

Enjoy the fungus that'll be growing on your feet, nutball.

-- Netep --

"Sure as shavit ain't gonna snipe for ya," Muri answers the canyon elder with a little smirk and upnods to those /clearly/ more suitably to the task of storming the castle. "Riders pass through here all the time. Sometimes we get lost. It'll be fine."

It'll be fine, she said, and some time later, she's staring up at the Codru-corpse with a slanted grimace in place of grin. "Well..." one hand goes up to finger her visor. "When a rider's goin' 300 kph along...no words are readable, hey? S'all just a blur. Sides...Playin' dumb's my greatest asset." Driving had best be a close second, given what she's preparing to do here. "An uh," a murmured aside, for Tamsin. "No woman *I've* e'er paid for would take a fancy to /that/." A pointed point at gorey raisin.

Netep, atop her mechanical beast, watches Sumi launch herself into the sky and confront the problem head-on. She's not complaining, as this might take /some/ unwanted attention off her little stunt, yes? A girl can hope, but this is really all she can offer to the party, so...

She does.

<<"In the event this goes poorly, Khalim,">> Muri broadcast via comm in her helmet, <<"Tell B'haav he gets dibs on my library.">>

And she's off with an abbreviated whine of engine and whoosh of thrusters, bulleting herself from zero to two-zerozero in a handful of racing heartbeats. The bait is away, zigging and zagging like she's in the race for her life. Cause she is. Her plan? It's formulating on the fly.

-- Khalim --

Khalim stops in front of that sacrificial codru-ji. There's a subtle shake of his head, helmet twisting just enough to betray the expression. <"Awfully poetic for these types,"> comes his reply to Tovi's observation, terse and barely vocoder-filtered. It /was/ a decided unpleasant sight. The man's voice carries through, and there's a hint of disgust. Whether at the sight of this partially dessicated corpse, or the situation at hand isn't quite certain. Both, likely.

'Civilized' beggar's canyon behind them, what exists ahead is self-advertised as at least mildly less friendly. That chonked-out heavy pistol is slipped from its home at his side and the armor-clad mirialan starts moving ahead. He skirts rock outcroppings, hoping to find a point within which to prepare a bound, or if necessary shoot from safety, but finds nothing of the sort. What had appeared full of little crags is in fact far more sheer, and cover-less, up close.

Muri's broadcast quip draws a brief reply. <"If Ziva gets so much as a scratch on her, Muri, your library will be sold to an ugnaught."> Maybe /that/ will force a tiny sense of self-preservation.

-- Raissa --

"I'm getting too old for this..." Raissa gives a bit of a huff as she finds a rock to wander up next to...she doesn't really try to hide, if she's going to get shot then so be it. She keeps her blaster out, waiting for things to kick off. For the moment she watches where Sumi landed, waiting to see what crazy dummy goes out to challenge her. This place is bad for the bones.

-- Vorcassh --

Tap. Tap tap. Tapparoo. Vorcassh has his attention divided, which makes hiding a little difficult. The sudden sound of a rocketpack makes for a fingers slidingon the datapad. There is a muttering untransmitted from within the unique angular helmet. Suddenly Muri! She's doing an equally brash movement on a speeder. Inwardly Vorcassh is envious of her skill, and dubious of her sanity. He actually had to pause to check where he was slicing progress.

A burst of static, and unhappy slicing sounds in his helmet tells him exactly where he was. There is a sigh untransmitted. No point in repeating Ubese curses again. Though fingers dance briefly in Ubeninal right before shoving the hardened datapad back into it's holster. His left hand drops to the gunslingers rig on his thigh, right fingertips brush on the blaster on his chest. He tries to move for cover of some sort. His helmet vocoder comes to speech-scrambled life. <"They are not using standard comlink encryption.">

-- Xavier (GM) --

The group doesn't make it to the end of the canyon. They don't need to. Their approach is enough to stir the wasp nest. Some in the group spot the figures stationed atop the canyon walls and further down the wide split of ancient rock is significantly more movement. A cloud of dust is kicking up: something fast, fast approaching but a distance away. For most of the group.

For Netep, who is speeding forward, she seems intent to meet whatever it is halfway.

Sumi hovers in the air calling out the unseen raiders directly and rather than an immedate open fire, the public frequency hisses to life in every helmet; a voice grating through the static with a laugh. <"A Kora? Here?"> The voice is heavily accented from Mando'a. <"When did you sneak out from under Fett's skirt? GWAHAHAHA! Kill them.">

And it is as if the heavens open up and a rain of blaster bolts fill the rocky gap onto the good samaritans down below. From both sides in a torrent, red bolts hit sand; combusting it into flailing glass all around. Some making purchase.

And that cloud of dust continues to approach.

-- Sumi --

Sumi isn't triggered by the communications from their supposed enemy. She was too distracted by the ride of Netep, and the diplomatic challenge from the posh pink haired noble. The result of the three drawing attention to themselves come in the way of blaster fire, and Sumi is brought back from her brief distraction to track the incoming fire from her position on the ground. She draws out her spear, extending it with a button that jettisons the haft outward and projects the spearhead forward, only to orchestrate herself into a throwing position.

Sumi seems poised to strike, and when she takes a step, a shot smashes into her chest, forcing her to take a step /back/, but the Mando iron her chest piece is comprised of redirects the blast to the ground, scattering dirt and debris ahead of her. Winded, Sumi looks up toward the culprit, takes four steps to gather momentum, then hurls the spear the rest of the distance.

The obsidian weapon sails through the air with a loud whistling noise before impaling Sumi's intended target and pinning them to the rock face, dead before they could scream. She rockets to them, yanking the spear free and allowing gravity to claim the carrion as she looks to the nearest foe and impales them, too. The second attack is driven with her body weight plus the weight of her armor and enhanced by the strength of the thrust. She growls, hefting them up only to plant them on their back and yank the spear free. <<"Bold words for a hidden foe,">> Sumi replies to the mysterious enemy.

Hadrix's encouraged 'you're perfect' prompts Sumi to smirk as she turns her gaze toward Nora and opts to join the noble so she is not alone in her assault. The rocketpack goes off again, and if Nora was attuned to her surroundings, the heavy 'thunk' of Sumi's landing may have been enough to clue her in she was no longer alone.

-- Nora --

Nora tips her head to the side as she feels something lifting up on the wind. The shifting sand beneath her feet and the wind in her hair. She -hears- it before it happens. Not the sound of the man screaming at Sumi Kora, no. His words don't mean much to her. It's the sound of something else in her skull. "Mmmmhh," she exhales, spinning left and then right as two blaster bolts rip through the air and towards her. Two swift strokes of a bow across strings, and then... heat.

The young woman yelps as she feels a sharp hot singe of plasma impact her chest, spinning her back in one direction hard enough to knock her briefly to her knee. She reaches for the sand beneath her fingertips and squeezes it, feeling grains slip through her fingertips before she pushes up from the ground and, in the moment that Sumi hurls her spear, makes a mad dash towards where that blaster fire had come from.

She's fast. Oddly so. But not fast enough, nor light enough on her feet to close the rest of the distance. A few hops up the rockface is all she can do before she tips a little forward and clutches the singe on her chest and pants. It hurts. But she's felt plenty of pain.

Nora draws her blade from the sheath at her hip and begins to close the rest of the distance between herself and those shooting.

-- Tamsin --

Tamsin, who was, in her hidey spot, not entirely capable of seeing the field, never the less, caught the roar of Muri's swoop, and the immediate blaster fire that followed it and Sumi's challenge. "Hahtavi!" This was in her group comms, yes, "Can you call out the injured for me?" Tamsin //had// spotted one mandalorian taking to the skies, she was sure others would follow, and she knew Hahtavi better than most. Surely someone was, as Tamsin ducked to the side, trying to evade the blaster fire that was unsettling not only the sands and the do-gooders, but the very stones itself. Such was the price of shooting into the wild blue yonder as some of the blaster fire impacted one of the more unstable slabs overhanding the hiding spots of some of the shooters on the eastern canyon wall, a crack ringing high and almost pained as it broke off, the screams of those crushed beneath it quickly swallowed up by the rumble of stone on stone as the slab came down.

-- Hahtavi --

The first shots start to rain down from above upon them and for a moment, Hahtavi keeps to cover while he sets his helmet's HUD to marking and tracking where firing positions are located. This data he shares to the team who are linked in the shared internal coms who are able to utilize it - such as his fellow Koras.

A moment later he is hearing the voice come over those very same coms. Nope, no surprise there, not to him after what the old man said.

This Kora leaps up from behind his cover, rifle in hands, and fires off his jetpack. Hahtavi rises up through the air rapidly, close up by the canyon wall so that he can do what he may to make himself a difficult target to sight down upon - at least on this side. A breath later his black armored form shoots up over the rim and suddenly /he/ is firing down upon those along the cliff's edge.

Two shots from his Mandalorian made Galaar rifle. Red bolts leap forth burning first one ambusher dead, and then the other - taking that one's head clean off! Burned bits of the shattered skull start to fall as debris on those below the cliff...

Then he hears someone call out his name. The Mandalorian turns his helmet to glance back down below. Over their coms he speaks, <<"Sing out if you are hit! We have me-dics!">>

-- Netep --

Hajep-Neti should know better than to stir a wasp nest. In fact, she DID know better, but...

This is what trying to be helpful gets her.

Eight seconds into the ride, the skies rain fire. Dust turns to glass. The Razalon cuts through a cloud of miniscule shards - a image which would be truly photogenic, were time slowed to a crawl. As it is, though, Muri hasn't even got time to avoid the fate she's committed to. Woman and swoop are naught but a blur, weaving with the natural contours of canyon and merely a speck to her cohorts by the time her brain ticked 'eleven' seconds into this rodeo.

By second twelve, she is just over a half kilometer along and that's when the first bolt strikes home. Be still, her beating heart. Er...no. NO DON'T BE STILL PLEASE DON'T! She shouldn't be surprised, but the expression on her face can't be helped when her diaphragm is suddenly having a time, like it took a punch to the solar plexus. The force of it rebounds her off the back of her seat, rocks her forward, and hands instinctively tighten their grip. One of those hands, her right one, suddenly goes slack - fourteen seconds - as the arm is flapping all loosey-goosey at her side, muslce and nerves shot to druk. By second fifteen, Muri's ragged breath in has stalled. Much like her swoop.

DID THEY SHOOT ZIVA!?!?! They did, those bastards. It's the last angry thought to fume about in Muri's brain as she slumps a little further to the left than she meant to, slip-sliding right on out of the saddle, and her body is bounced violently free of her desperate cling to the swoop. It goes rocketing along all pell-mell without her, harmlessly on toward that growing dust cloud, before skid-skip-skittering into a jagged outcropping.

The pyrotechnics are spectacular.

-- Kin-Li --

The lean form of Kin-Li is visible to everyone. Mostly, you see, because his legs are sticking out from behind a rock. Clearly, his assumption that he was cleverly hidden behind good cover was....incorrect. Blaster bolts begin smashing into the desert floor around him, the urgency of the moment made clear as he slips over the radio net: <"Whoah!">

Then Kin-Li begins fighting with the unfamiliar blaster rifle and its sling, instead of bad guys. He tries to bring the thing to bear as the firefight begins, his armored head swiveling to lock onto two forms in the rocks overhead. Frustration can be seen even through the armor, and finally, he simply drops the rifle so it hangs off to his side at a weird angle, and in a blur of motion, draws a heavily modified Series III blaster from a low-slung quickdraw holster. The first bolt sizzles just wide, showering the area with molten rock, but the second hits the man in the center of the forehead. The boneless form falls to the desert floor with a loud |WHUUUMP.|

-- Hadrix --

SHRREEEEEEIII-SPAK!

No hide is perfect, there's always a chance of being spied and the shot that explodes against part of his sectional cuirass is proof of the point. A red flash of sparks that puts the big man into sharp contrast, midnight purple armor showing black while the heat dissipation makes the iridescent affects of the stained metal crawl across like heat lightning.

<"That kind of day."> rumbled and as he does so the tiny ID10 on his back ejects from her saddle as if wanting to have as much space between her and what's about to happen as she can when the big man's jets fire second after his legs flex to kick him into the air from concealment. Bursting into sun with thrust flames riffling the krayt scales behind him. The flight is short but carries the massive mandalorian to land at a jogging approach to one of those firing from so called height advantage and instead of shouldering the weapon, the wide bored barrel is thrust between armor plates, robbing them of their air when he lifts and swings the figure now gripping his weapon and becoming an unintentional stabilizer towards another.

A free hand of the brute slaps ineffectively against his shoulder pauldron, his helmet and the answer is a roar that causes the vocalizer speakers of his helmet to warble and spit static. The cannon's roar is barely louder than the man's, the body coming apart and Hadrix being pushed back by the recoil before the weapon barks again, the second viridian comet catching one of the brutes in the neck and blasting a halfmoon into their torso, vaporizing anything from the neck up.

A fist slams against his chest, and his head lowers like an akk-dog on the hunt, turning a slow circle to find his next dance partner.

-- Tovani --

"Drek," is the utterance that makes it past Tovi's lips as she lowers and tries to be sure the hail of bolts does not catch her. Her head pops up as the others are moving for action and she realizes she's too far to reach those above them so she is watching the dusty mess and the unknown creator of it heading their way.

"Cover me..." she starts to get up and golden eyes spy the slumping form of Muri as she tilts and finally falls right out on the dusty path, her gaze narrowing as the skid comes to a stop. "I am going out..." Worn boots hit the ground and she can feel the chafing of sand filled clothes begin as she starts to try to beat feet forward, having to side step a few times which impedes her progress forward towards her goal - Muri on the snady ground.

"This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea," she mutters to herself but despite her personal pep talk she continues to approach the forward position of her fellow swoop racer. Loose rocks and sand beneath her feet cause her to slide, skidding across the ground as she spills to the unforgiving ground unceremoniously. She slides on her leg and pushes up, ignoring the ache in her leg.

Teal skin against the ruddy ground is a brilliant contrast as the Wroonian closes the distance.

-- Khalim --

Is there a better place to be than standing upon open sand, without benefit of even a little nub or rock as cover, when he heavens begin raining fire?

Yes, yes there is. Over there. Or there. Or right over there. But not here.

Khalim looks up in time to see a brutish looking long rifle drawing a bead. At him, he presumes, and there's a mad almost-dash to his left, along that cliff face, that happens to bring an outcropping WAY UP HIGH into eclipse with that weapon and its wielder.

His own pistol, already in hand, is brought up. Some targets to left and right, but THAT one, momentarily unseen, has drawn the mirialan's ire. A step-lean to the right and an armored form is partially visible. A quick one-two trigger squeeze sends two violently golden bolts in its direction. One splashes harmlessly against the cliff face, but the other, it impacts squarely and a body is soon falling... falling... THUD.

It's at that moment Khalim hears a well-familiar voice, just ahead, in the direction he'd originally been traveling. Tovani had made it further yet, and she calls for cover. His blaster's point of aim shifts, providing it as she dashes forward. <"I've got you, Tovani,"> he answers.

-- Raissa --

Raissa doesn't really care if she gets shot at, it's others that she's wanting to make sure that she doesn't get hit. She shoots three times, three green bolts going off as she hits canyon wall or rock. She looks at the pistol, wondering if she should throw it instead. That might hit someone!

-- Vorcassh --

There's a lot going on all at once. So many moving parts. Vorcassh leaves alone attempting to cause electronical havok for now. The DL-44 clears the holster first, and fires twice rapidly. One brute goes down hard. Cover. Cover would be nice. Vorcassh is seeking it still as the DL-54 clears the pilots rig on his chest. That shot isn't even remotely on the mark he needs it to be. There's a split second taken to cant it sideways as his head tilts to look at the offending weapon. Calibration is coming later apparently.

-- Xavier (GM) --

The Missing Hand has the hometurf advantage. They've got sentries along the wall and lookouts. It's even possible there are informants in the Beggar's Canyon itself, but that would only be speculation. Suffice to say they got the jump on the team. That advantage lead to a great opening for the Missing Hand. The speederbike racing forward is shredded and its driver tossed somewhere in the sand. But the pyrotechnics are spectacular.

The first volley bruises the collective group of offworlders but their answer in return is devastating. Over the open comms, the chortling of the unseen leader of this band turns from gravelly laughter to acid-burning growls. <"Di'kuts!"> The Mando'a comes biting and spat out from somewhere still hidden.

But that cloud... that cloud is rolling. The ground shakes and rumbles; a tremor THATHUMPTHATHUMP closer and closer. Screeching past the wreckage that is the Lorrdian and her vehicle, a huge, lumbering form breaks through the sandy haze.

Chased by blaster fire from behind that is guiding it here in fury, a juvenile rancor leaps over the newly fallen pile of rocks and SLAMS into the ground in front of the group with a planet-shaking roar.

-- Sumi --

Sumi turns at the sound of the Rancor, and smiles when it arrives to fight. <"Ugh, finally. Something worth killing."> Grumbling as she rockets the short distance toward the rancor, Sumi stabs a weak point in the juvenile's leg. When it reacts to her, squaring up to face her, she puts the spearhead into its nostril. She yanks the spear back, sliding across the sand to make way for Lady Nora to join the fray.

<"IT'S A JUVENILE. OVERWHELM IT. PAIN OVERLOAD WILL MAKE IT FLEE!">

-- Nora --

Well, this is certainly not Nora Frayus' finest hour. No sooner does she scramble up the cliff faces to get at those hiding in the rocks do they scatter. "And just where do you think you're go--," she starts to say just before she feels a rumbling on the ground beneath her. The loud roar, crash of stone, and slam of the creature's feet against the ground draw Nora's attention in its direction. "Ah, well, back down it is, then," she says, and tries to hot-foot it down the rocks towards the creature below. It's more of a falling with style situation, however, but soon enough Lady Frayus finds herself at the bottom and able to close the distance between her and the Rancor in a few more moments.

She gives it a few smack smacks with the business end of her sword as it reels from Sumi's hit. One two three, just like a waltz. Though it doesn't appear that those swishing, dainty little strikes are doing much at all.

"'Tis a hearty beast!"

-- Tamsin --

Well, there was no word on precisely where Muri went down, but people are running away from the group, Tamsin can see that, and with people heading in that direction, which was as good a direction as any, Tamsin popped up from her hidey spot, taking off at a dash to get to where one would assume Muri was, given the explosion, the doctor adjusting her bag on the fly as she dashed through the line of battle. A hand reached for the activation switch of the shield, but she did not make use of it yet. Best to keep it for protecting her patient.

-- Hahtavi --

Using his jetpack to keep flying and shifting position so not to make an easy target of himself, Hahtavi tries to look for any of their team who are wounded. People are moving around, using the canyon's edges and random fallen stone as cover, lots of firing back and forth. But this Kora doesn't have much time. Even as he's changing position and getting shot at, Hahtavi's having to give his attention back to not getting himself killed.

And there's a rancor that comes barreling down the canyon!

<"This'll be fun."> He mutters with a slur to himself, spinning to turn about and bring his rifle up to bear. The first shot misses it as the rancor starts to dance with Sumi and her spear, but the second bolt burns the beast soundly!

<<"Ran-cor steaks to-night! OYA!">>

-- Netep --

Muri's swoopsuit has seen better days. The meat and bones under that suit, too. She's stopped skid-tumbling through the sand, but the scenery remains a hazy blur to her half-drooped lids, eyes rolling around in sockets like they might make sense of it all. The vibrations of doom on fast approach are barely registered in brain and the lumbering form that breezes on over the top of her comes and goes like a roaring dust cloud against the brightness of sky.

Muri flinches, squints, the spastic readout of her helmet's integrated HUD sputtering little flashes of orange and green and RED RED RED RED. The swoop is not responding. Ehm, duh?

A shallow squeal of a breath sucks into her lungs and she inches a few fingers of her left hand nearer to self. To belt. Somehow, the component of her wardrobe is still attached, and while many gizmos and whatsits have been cast off several bounces ago, her gloved fingertips touch a familiar, reassuring shape.

Emergency hooch.

The flask is tugged painfully out, raised shakily toward her face...clunk against visor.

Oh dammit, seriously. Setting her jaw into a growl that one part agony, two parts frusterated alcoholic, Netep thumps knuckles at her visor until it finally snaps open. Access granted. A wheezy cough burbles red around her thirsty, thirsty sip.

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel begins moving in a shuffling, tactical jog, rather than a dead sprint. Though it is invisible to everyone, his eyes narrow as his helmet tracks the swoop driver's unfortunate method of stopping the vehicle. Over the commlink, he says curtly, <"This is Kin-Li. Moving to the swoop wreck. Covering fire out.">

And, with his not-that-efficient tacti-jog, he fires at the Rancor. Good thing he has the armor on. No one can see how wide his eyes are. Blaster shots fly out as he moves, and one connects, center mass....and does absolutely nothing.

-- Hadrix --

<"Finally..."> ignoring the bodies around him in favor of the sound of a Rancor.

The shadow of the man like a hunting raptor on the wing.

His steps on the rise above where the beast appeared were like a freight car on conventional wheels, long lope that becomes quicker and quicker steps, throwing the cannon over his shoulder on its sling to hang and thump against his back while beskar treaded boots kick up squirts of dust in his wake. A dozen steps that ended in a single leap that became a graceful arch until the shadow of him became a predator avian's.

<<"Sumi, be there in a moment, mesh'la.">> sucking in breath after his announcement before he becomes a falling star. The shadow resolving into caped figure whose descent ends with heels striking and his knees flexing only when Hadrix absolutely must to absorb the hit, one hand wrapping fingers in an iron strong grip into the folds of skin above the crature's eye before he slams a fist into it, forcing the massive orb to close and the creature to buck it's head skyward, roaring.

Finesse

-- Tovani --

There is a moment where Tovani's steps stutter at the revelation of what lies ahead. Rancor. The large creature even though young gives her pause, Muri on the other side. Her mouth open wide, the Wroonian stares for a split second before the beedy eyed hulking creatured is approached from all fronts. It gives her that bolster of courage to dig her feet back in. Launching herself forward, she weaves to the side as a big arm comes rushing overhead - intentional or not and dips low - aiming center mass for the bipedal carnivore.

The two halves of her staff are held firmly in hand as she does what she had done accidentally moments before. She keeps her speed and ducks low, dropping to her back, letting the armor's backplate take her weight and the beating of the ground as she slams one quarterstaff at the inside of its left thigh to hopefully distract it before the other comes hard at the back of its right knee joint, trying to spill it to the ground - but her goal all along is to get to the familar - prone form of Muri. Jumping back to her feet on the other side - narrowly missing the tail, she glances back at the towering foe.

-- Khalim --

Khalim's attention is caught by the settled wreckage of Muri's speeder, past Tovi's sprint, but just what he's seeing doesn't quite register for a long moment. A wreckage-spawned cloud of sand still drifts and settles, though it is smaller than the rage-led cloud at the forefront of which a kriffing RANCOR can be seen.

The mirialan begins running in the same general direction most of their combined party appears to be headed. In the general direction of gnarly-mawed horror. He approaches, and when there's that feel of 'just close enough' his blaster is held to fore, sighted upon the beast, and... squeeze-squeeze. A pair of golden lances are discharged, and they splash into the rancor's side, twin holes burned into its thick hide one right next to the other. The beast rumbles a pained, challenging roar, though really it never stops furiously vocalizing. There it goes again. And again.

-- Raissa --

Now sometimes fights turned to bullying. Raissa gives a bit of a head tilt when Hadrix just punches this poor Rancor. What if it called mom...welp, too late now! The Doctor raises her pistol, shooting at it, trying to get it to run off to where it came from. Go on, git!

-- Vorcassh --

Thugs fall like debris, things are going fairly well. A miniature duststorm is coming. Vorcassh is relatively unconcerned. After growing up on Uba IV, Tatooine duststorms are essentially sunbathing by comparison. Except there's blaster fire in, no, behind the duststorm. What emerges does actually cause Ubese cursing contained to muffles within the modified helmet.

<"I'm not getting paid enough for this. What is that thing doing on THIS planet?"> Slips through the scrambled-vocoder of the helmet. Now he REALLY misses his swoop. The DL-54 in his right hand fires it's unique crimson double-bolt first. The Ubese scores a solid hit. The DL-54 in his left hand takes a hip shot, and skips right over just above the eye ridge of the right eye he was aiming for. Internally speaking once more he is hoping he lives long enough to explain why Borgol better pay him a bonus. A large one. Or at least a barrel of water or four.

-- Xavier (GM) --

This poor, dumb creature. Clearly chased here by the blastfire masked in the cloud of sand and dust, it roars in fury and in pain as the attacks pelt it relentlessly. The damage is swift, efficient, and with a particularly large Mandalorian perched atop, both comical and frightening. Large, meaty arms flail around, taking a swipe at Nora in blind desperation. The other trying to grab the man o' armour and failing to do so.

Severely injured and now more afraid of the foes ahead of it than behind, the young rancor spin around with a powerful jerk and tramples back the way it came. Into the cloud of sand and particulate; straight into the path of nearly a dozen Missing Hand that are now nothing more than bugs in the way.

What follows are screams of panic, abruptly ended with the sickening crunch of flesh and vicera under clawed feet as the rancor tries to flee. Those who remain perched on the canyon walls withdraw quickly; disappearing from sight and running in all directions; hoping to lose themselves in the crags and inner caverns.

One sticks around to fire a hapless shot at Hahtavi. Then he, too, bolts.

Over the comms is a low, angry growl that rivals that of the rancor itself. Then the comms cut.

-- Sumi --

Sumi watches in slow perception as Hadrix leapt to the creature's back while Nora has taken to slashing at the massive beast's legs. Shots rain in from all directions, impacting its hide and making it lash out in anguish and pain. Sumi holds her ground as this happens, witnessing the massive arms sweeping by with loud WHOOOSH noises. It's only by chance that Sumi is near enough to Nora that she sallies close to her back, abandoning the spear to hug the woman close and help her duck.

Both ladies impact the dirt and sand just as the Rancor's arm and clawed hand swipes by, missing them by inches in its flailing retreat. Sumi rolls from Nora, and rises back up to collect her spear, testing its weight and hoisting it up to measure the throw. Her free hand comes up too, acting as a sight, before she takes two, then three steps to hurl the spear across the distance and sink it deep into a delicate part of its spine.

The animal takes a few slower steps before collapsing onto the ground in a grimaced whine, its final breath released in a long sigh that is not accompanied by another draw in. It's dead.

Sumi remains where she is for now, turning slightly to look back at Nora, head tilted slightly emphasizing the presence of 'kitty ears' atop her helmet. <"You good, Lady Frayus?">

-- Nora --

Nora staggers back a few steps as the blaster fire hails over head and Mandalorians launch from their spots to pour more blows into the vicious beast. For a moment, though, some of its pained cries sound almost... mournful. Nora's head tips to the side and she turns to look at the sword clutched in her hand. The creature begins to rear back and flee, swinging violently up and into Hadrix, and then sideways into her. No music in her head. No warning. Nora pulls a breath in through her lungs just before that creature collides with her, but instead of a potentially life-ending impact, she feels the impact of something else on her back.

"Ooomph!" comes that same breath from her lungs as she lands chest and face first in a pile of sand. The wind knocked out of her, but safe thanks to Alor Kora's quick motions. The weight on her back leaves her, and Nora pushes herself up onto her knees just in time to see Sumi heft the spear up and begin to throw.

"Wai--," she tries to say, but it's too late. The spear arcs towards the fleeing creature's spine. Nora lifts herself the rest of the way onto her feet and dusts the sand off of the tunic-turned-makeshift-skirt. Her sword is tucked back into her sheath.

"My pride is a bit wounded, I must confess," Nora says, and then winces. A bit of sand has pushed into the abrasion and burn on her chest. "Mmmmmhh... hmm," she says with a soft smile and a bite on her bottom lip. But makes no further mention of that burn.

"An impressive ambush, to be sure," she murmurs.

-- Tamsin --

Tamsin hit the ground running. Literally, as she took a knee, skidding into position as she came into view of Muri. She could see other members of the team coming into the orbit of the downed explorer. "Cover us!" Tamsin dug in close to Muri as she began to work. Just before she set down her tools, she hit the switch on the shield, so that it bubbled up around herself and her patient, just barely. A fragile, if beautiful energy shield. "I'll need help to carry her back to whatever we're using as base." She said no more than that, as she began the process of scanning, bandaging, pain killing, and splinting for transport. What little could be done was done. "Don't drink all of that at once," was the doctor's educated, medical opinion, as she saw the flask in Muri's hand, "You're going to need some for the ride back." This was about stabilizing the patient so she could be extracted for rescue. Once she was sure she had the woman stable for transport, and there was no more blaster fire, Tamsin deactivated the shield, so that Muri could be moved. "It'll take at least two," the doctor noted. The splits were just too stiff for a 'throw her over your shoulder like a potato sack.'

-- Hahtavi --

As the rancor turns and plows right over the Hand's reinforcements, decimating them, and the remaining ambushers up on the canyon walls loose faith in their fight and decide to flee... one holds back to take a final shot at Hahtavi. The Kora makes an obvious target, still in flight but is too quick to hit.

Haht can see the fight is winding down and the Hand is fleeing. He drops back down into the canyon, boots to touch down in the sand and hardpack. The exhaust of his jetpack dies. Rifle still attached to the front of his tactical rig, he starts looking for wounded among their team.

If he can find any, he'll either tend to them himself, or call out for Doctor Cas or Raissa to assist. With Sumi and Hadrix tending to the rancor, Haht knows he doesn't need worry about it.

Over coms, his baritone asks, <<"Kin-Li, you still alive?">> Appropriate Mando question.

-- Netep --

Ardees juice dribbles more around Muri's mouth than in, but she gets a taste, at least, as the contents wash away the bloody vom and the salt of her tears. It's sharp, it's bitter, it's just what she needs to cling to some semblance of alertness. Keyword being 'some'.

"Mmmfffffffffffffark," a groan and the flask is fumbled from her grasp, into the dust. Just in time to witness the suns ecclipsed a second time, by fleeing rancor. Her jaw remains slackly ajar for that round, stare fixed forward (upward) in an awed stupor. Or a lapse in coherent anything, it's honestly hard to focus with the -- oh gods.

Netep's made a feeble attempt at pushing herself up into a sit after reclaiming her flask, but for reasons yet-to-be-recognized by her, her right arm just isn't up to the task of bearing weight and she crumples onto that side. Pain helps with recognition, of course. A squeak, a ragged sob on the exhale, and she struggles to refill those lungs while her left arm - the strong arm - clutches a fistful of sand in attempts to pull herself along. Somewhere. Anywhere.

The stain Muri leaves in the sand under her belly as she goes is an ominous one.

On the fourth squirm along, she's halted by the arriving form of Tamsin. A familiar face. "I..." the fask is fumbled a second time and she looks to it, confused. "...need it." Her eyes roll up and around, looking to the muddled shadows of faraway crevasses. Squinting, like she expected to find someone there. More tears for the sand, torso spasming with what's either laughter or hiccups or respiratory distress.

In her head, a voice is snarkily remarking on her lack of survival instincts.

"Yes, yes..." she answers it back. "But--we--do--what--we---do...." syllables between gasps. "We--chil--dren--of--kas." If anybody's banking on Muri being of use to get her ass out of the dirt, they're s.o.l.

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel sees the swoop rider being tended to, and, so, simply stops near cover, taking overwatch as the group's wounded are tended to. Over the radio, his distorted voice comes: <<"Yes. Still alive. Kin-Li, covering the medics.">> To encourage the proper sort of terrified behavior from the fleeing bandits, he fires a matched pair of blaster bolts into the back of a routing marauder. One barely misses, inches left.

The second does not, however, and flesh and bone become visible in the ragged hole in the fleeing being's lower back. He's not dead, but he probably wishes he was.

-- Hadrix --

The fall of the rancor sounds the end of the ride for Hadrix Kora. Still throwing punches into its face when it grinds out that first wheezing sound his head lifts to observe the distance its made since it began to flee. Good story to tell a certain someone when they next meet. So few people remaining raptly interested in -another- story of doing something of remarkable stupidity and surviving. His trademark, as much as brutality and tactical acumen.

Feeling it waver, slow and once it begins its long fall he is swinging up, getting his feet back under him and his balance swaying forward. Next sprinting down its back, that gradient slowly shifting to a flat horizon when he leans and his hand clamps around the obsidian weapons' haft. Giving a small huffing grunt when his inertia is the primary force lifting the spear from the corpse with sinew and flesh raggedly drawn free with it. Shifting his grip as he goes and pumping his legs to accommodate the change in angle when the chin starts coming down.

A short, strong, hop carries him to the stumpy tail that he uses to springboard his exit from the ride, forward into a graceless backflip that serves to arrest some of his 'forward' momentum and bring him down on mandalorian iron shod boots that spark on bits of stone in the sand spraying up around him.

<<"Sumi'Alor... found this.">> a rasping chuckle in the gravel voice wrapped in aristocratic poshness, her spear held out when his walk brings her in range to hand it off... <"I know you killed it, can I have this one's skull?">> thoughts on his chair in the Woor... or his throne on Dxun.

<<"Hahtavi, got your stew meat.">>

-- Tovani --

Tovi's steps bring her along side the doctor who is tending to Muri ahead of her arriving. Catching her breath the two ends of the staff are stored back at her sides, clipped to the belt as she squats down beside the two. She checks over the injured before nodding to Tamsin, listening to what she has to say. "I think I can get her," she remarks to the other woman. Tovi turns her head back, watching as the rest of the group manages to clear the area. "KHALIM! Need your help carrying Muri!" The trek back will be far easier with the injured Muri.

That's when she finds the flask that Muri had been searching for within reach. With a quick pluck of it off the ground she tucks it away. "I have it, Netep. The flask." Rolling her shoulders back just as the shield drops, Tovi scoots forward on one knee and then gingerly begins to pick up the fallen form of Muri under her arms, getting a good hold so that Khalim can take her legs.

"I am not going to make any comment about your weight here..for now...but your driving - definitely no tyour best." Its a good natured tease for Muri if she is with it enough to hear. "Ready?" This asked of Tamsin before the Wroonian keeps a firm hold of the heavier portion of the woman. Up she rises with a grunt and then she begins the shuffle back in the direction Muri had propelled herself from aboard the skiff.

-- Khalim --

The rancor is dropped, and it's no wonder, how could any beast of nightmare withstand the pummeling fisticuffs, metal staves, and cruel looks of this far beastlier horde of do-gooders. What follows, for the mirialan, is a run - as fast as those armored legs will carry him - to that tumble of swoop wreckage not far beyond. Tovani's call had been heard, and he answers.

No rider is seen, but a few that have already reached Muri are spotted near a rock outcropping. Reaching them, he kneels next to the wroonian, and aside Muri. There may be members of the Missing Hand still running off in random directions, but Khalim reaches for his helmet, unclasps it, and lifts it off. It's secured in a taut little dangele at his side. A well-controlled smile shifts onto pear-hued features as he looks to those green-flecked yellow eyes. "Don't worry," he says, "Ziva's fine."

What follows is a coordinated lift, and despite Tovani's smaller stature, the woman's strength is clearly a match for and probably superior to Khalim's as the burden is distributed. Legs held aloft, the pair begin moving, step by step, the injured towards safety.

-- Raissa --

Raissa gives a look around, watching the dust settle and the Rancor falling over dead. Welp, that was a new adventure. She then pops off her helm, showing the markings on her face as she hurries over to Nora and others, "Just your friendly doctor doing a run by." she states as she scans the Lady with a medpac and then going about patching her up. "You'll be good as new in no time!" the raven haired woman tells her as she goes off to see if anyone else is in need of healing. And to gawk at the Rancor...because Rancor!

-- Vorcassh --

Rancor is running. That is not ideal, but definitely an improvement to their current situation. Except now the Rancor is dead. Well that is some good news at least. One less thing to worry about. Vorcassh snaps up his left hand and callously puts a blaster bolt into the back of the fleeing limping one while thinking to himself 'That is what you get for bringing a Rancor to this planet.'

The DL-54 shifts in his right hand for another fleeing figure The twin blast occurs once more. This time it is not a solid shot, it's not even a landing shot. Once again, his head and pistol cocks in opposite directions so he can examine its issue. He decides it's the Hutt's fault somehow. Most likely it is sand. As it is Tatooine, most issues are sand. Yet, since Borgol brought him to Tatooine, therefore it is Borgol's sand. Vorcassh nods that angular helmet to himself.

-- Xavier (GM) --

The area just beyond the 'border' of what is officially/unofficially know as Beggar's Canyon has gone from quaint natural landmark to bloody, pock-marked battlefield. Bodies are strewn all about the place; most having fallen from the heights of the rock walls. If they weren't dead from being shot, they certainly died on impact. Others are crushed under fallen rocks, stomped into broken paste beneath Rancor feet, or flatted between said Rancor's dead carcass and the cracked, dry Tatooine ground. Of those escaping, one is picked off by two shots coming from separate directions. So close to relative freedom only to join the other dead.

Past the rancor and littered bodies is a swoopbike that has seen better days and a driver that... well, this might not rank as one of her worst days but certainly top ten. Maybe. Luckily for her, there are plenty of doctors and helpers to piece that mess together.

Admist this all, a hunched figure hobbles up to join the group, his one good eye surveying the aftermath with a judgemental click of his tongue. "Dunno if I gots enough money to pay for this kinda work." He's nothing if not an honest hermit. "'Spected some of ya to die, wot. Eh, but we gots payment all the same. Jus' come back when yer ready."

A glance towards Muri as she's carried back has the old man smirking a few-toothed grin. "How'd runnin' decoy work for ya, lass? Eee-hee-hee-heeeee!" Kota turns to make his way back home then pauses to look around again. "Huh. Big feller ain't here? The one that talks funny?" Overhearing Hahtativ, Kota laughs huskily. "Yeah! Bit like that'n! Got away, wot? Well, he don't have much of a crew left, I 'spect." And then he starts making his way back.

-- Sumi --

<"It was a pleasure to share the field of battle with you,"> Sumi says to Nora, tilting her head down before her attention is commanded by Hadrix's gravel voice. She accepts the bloody spear, twisting its haft to orient the obsidian head to plant it into the dirt. <"Skull's yours. Lady Fae will want the steak meat for her chili. Do not incur her wrath."> Sumi pulls her helmet off, and goes through the ritual of lighting a smoke, thankful for the wind in her sweaty hair.

-- Netep --

"I was mmm--mak-ing" Muri contests the Wroonian's observation "grrrrrreat time." And she was, too! Grade-A driving, until being shot twice through-and-through. The it was grade-A disaster. "Youre a shite liar," she informs Khalim.

Some time into the uncomfortable carry, lapsing in and out of consciousness, but still alive, thanks to Dr Cas, the old man's tee-hee remarks filter in through the sound of blood pounding in Muri's ears and one corner of her lip curls up oh so slyly. Or smugly. Both? "Iwerkdinnit?" an exhaled mumble.

-- Nora --

"The pleasure was all mine," Nora says, offering Sumi a polite bow of her head and curtsy. She peels off one glove, watching sand pour out from within it, and then the other. She lets out a dramatic sigh and gives both gloves a shake as she turns to move back towards the rest of the party. When payment is offered in her direction, she gives a delicate decline with the tip of her index finger. "Just here to help," she says softly. One hand rests on the pommel of her sword at her hip, and the other on the inside curve of her waist. She turns to look back up at the sky above and its twin moons.

Kota's voice draws her attention once more and the young, befreckled woman purses her lips. Nora Frayus is filled with the sudden urge to moisturize.

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel seems content to watch the mercenaries, mandalorians, and medics meander merrily back towards the 'good' side of Beggar's Canyon. His blaster pistol goes into a low ready, held in hand, but not pointed at anything other than hot Tatooine sand. As the injured swoop rider goes past, he calls out, "Impressive riding. I mean it. The ending was just bad luck. I am glad you made it."

Once she passes, he simply returns to keeping an eye on things, gaze cast up to the rocks to ensure no one comes back for some ill-considered revenge.

-- Tamsin --

With her patient tended to, and all reports of other injuries good, Tamsin allowed Muri to be carried away, as she gathered her supplies before she rose to her feet, moving to walk with the group as the old codger came to greet them. "I don't require payment, so that is one less thing to worry about. Perhaps your people can sell whatever you can salvage from these dead." This was Tatooine, didn't everyone salvage? "There is armor and weapons and likely foodstuffs to be collected. And if any of your people require medical aid, I will remain with you to assist, before I return to Mos Espa." Such was the life of an itinerant doctor.