Log:Tatooine: Going, Going, Almost Gone

The Missing Hand have been effectively routed from their den in Beggar's Canyon, but they're not gone yet. What's left of the group's Tatooine branch have regrouped to the abandoned Outpost Varath in the Jundland Wastes where they have fortified themselves inside. They need to be confronted now or risk reinforcements arriving to shore their numbers.

Going, Going, Almost Gone

OOC Date: May 20, 2022
Location: Jundland Wastes, Tatooine
Participants: Xavier Harcourt (GM), Hadrix Kora, Khalim, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Adalee Kaline, Fshmaw, Tovani Enno, Caius Sentari, Kin-Li Kel, Tamsin Cas, Hahtavi Kora, Risslan, Aryn Cortess, Kohnner

Previous Log --> Log:Tatooine: An Unlikely Call for Help

-- Xavier --

Outpost Varath is a little-known speck in the middle of the Jundland Wastes. Three millennia ago, it served as a Sith outpost on Tatooine during the Cold War. Since then, it has been utilized by any number of tribes and groups. So close to Tusken territory, it is a far cry from prime real estate, but it has provided a good place for rest and restocking for those that travel across the Dune Sea. Lately, the traders and merchants that had been occupying this slice of reprieve have been run out by a branch of an off-worlder group of violent scavengers calling themselves the Missing Hand.

What remains of this group have fallen back and fortified themselves at this outpost; well aware that those who had engaged them at Beggar's Canyon intend to see them run completely off the planet.

The outpost itself has seen better days. Years. Decades. Free-floating structures open to the elements over the centuries has taken the toll. Most of the smaller buildings have been reduced to rubble on vague foundations. Only one large building -- what used to be the warehouse -- now stands though all the windows are broken and the door is askew, never to fully close again.

Further back, more rooms have been built into the rocks formations that rest on the cliffs and these have resisted the constant sandblasting of Tatooine. But even these are desolated versions of its former glory. There are tattered canvas tarps fluttering in the wind; long-since giving up the ghost in terms of providing shade.

-- Tovani --

Tovani is once more not hiding adequately enough, stationed near Adalee and Khalim as the Wroonian lifts a cloth to her lips to wipe away the dust that lingers in the air here. "Sand." It is all she says.

She gives a shake of her head, her hair showering the rest of her with the build up of the particles from the air. Sharp golden eyes look to the two in full armor and visors, a smile pulling at her lips as she draws a combat blade from her side.

Her head tilts and the golden chains decorating her hair catch the light as she leans back against a column. "So we wait...but probably not for long." She glances back around the corner of it, eyes squinting against the harsh light as she touches the knuckles and then the staff as she looks to the weapons.

"Ada, stay back if you can. Shoot from cover." A measure of concern draws her brows into a furrow.

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel moves up to a position of cover and concealment. It may be a galaxy far, far away, but the principles of a firefight don't change. The Mandalorian is loaded for bear, even by Mandalorian standards. A blaster on a drop holster. A carbine slung from his harness on a 1-point sling. On his back is a massive blaster rifle with a built-in concussion grenade launcher. He clearly came prepared to fight.

<<KL, covering. In position.>> He crouches down, taking a decent position, and readied his Galaar carbine, steadying it on the piece of old, decaying equipment he is behind.

-- Tamsin --

In a sea of human, near-humans, and everything under the sun and in between, all armored and armed to the teeth, it might be that the, possibly, sole unarmored and unarmed non-combatant in the group might stick out like a sore thumb. But, if Tamsin appeared worried, it did not show. She occupied her time on the approach in ensuring that she had all manner of medical supplies tucked in and around her person, and she took the time to access each of the friendly combatants. You knew what she was doing. Trust and believe. Pre-battle triage. Once the team began to move into position, Tamsin chose an old busted down speeder truck to use has her place of refuge. A good view, if she stuck her head out, and reasonable cover. What more could one ask for?

-- Bizz --

Brother Bizz came here in his rusty old A5 speeder truck but parked some ways away. Partly due to stealth, and partly because it could use some new repulsor coils. But the Guardian of the Whills is here to protect the noble people of Tatween. He hides in a modest dune of sand with his energy bow at his side and a repulsor-quiver on his hip.

-- Grafn --

The aged and portly figure of one Grafn Struss manages to fling itself into cover with a belaboured grunt and a swipe of a gloved hand against his sweat-laden brow. His wild white-grey hair blown about the desert winds as he brings his carbine to bear upon the enemy. Why did he agree to this? Well there was booze involved. And indeed, even as he keeps one eagle-eye upon the enemy, his carbine poised and ready, his other hand briefly pats down the pockets in his jumpsuit, cigarillos? Check. Flask of some foul and highly alcoholic beverage? Check. And then with a few further checks, the aged figure brings his gloved hand back to the carbine to steady itself. Shoulder against the crumbling cover he found, his eyes though aged do seem to grasp the finer details further away, and they narrow faintly as he takes it all in. Heavy breaths exhaled, the heat unbearable and annoying.

-- Khalim --

There's only one thing saving Khalim from a hateful litany of mirialan expletives involving sand and the places Tatween often manages to infiltrate it. The enviro-sealed nature of the old fashioned Republic-era clone trooper armor he wears. Sand is stirred up with every bootfall though, little plumes lofted into the air with each step. The number of grains felt as a result? Zero! Much, likely, to Tovani's chagrine as he walks next to her. Her armor? Not quite as resilient in this respect. He sends her a side-long glance. "Your suit seems designed to take as much of this sand with it as possible. We should collect it, make some of those little colored-grain art bottles. Sand sculptures."

But they're here for a reason, and the mirialan begins hugging what bits of cover exist as they near their objection. Attempts and largely failed, never quite falling within enough shadow, or behind enough outcropped rock to hide him from likely prying eyes. His pistol is, at some point, slipped out of its holster and held ready in hand. He looks to Adalee, walking near. "Keep on your toes."

-- Risslan --

The prevailing philosophy governing combat in Risslan's limited experience is that many sentients find large, armored Trandoshans to be imposing. Thus, while his wiser comrades in purpose conceal themselves, Risslan grasps his barely used carbine, eyes the fortifications ahead, makes himself as tall as he can, and prepares for the sort of reckless charge that only species who regrow limbs can fully embrace. He speaks in a long, low hiss. "hi blo bryamlya smoqux li ao sonbli uxop ololt. sund straippryap smoou sund yimaeism." [Language: Dosh]

-- Fshmaw --

Fshmaw, "jiph ghevaethie femamu," armed and armored, fought possibly for the glory of the Hutts or to keep rustlers off his friend's property? So few people understood Aqualish it wasn't always clear what he was saying. The age and condition of his belt-mounted translator certainly didn't help. [Language: aqualish]

-- Hadrix --

Several reeds set with a thin sack cloth pulled over with wending swirls of twine and coil and the thin grid of the material itself catching sand and making the hide look like part of the dunes. Tucked down with a tusken gaderffi strapped to his back, pistols in place and that ridiculous man-pack cannon of his ready, the Massive Mandalorian: Hadrix Kora rests in wait.

Looking to Hahtavi first, then Aryn, beneath their concealment the big man watches and waits.

<"I wish I'd brought jerky..."> looking around again, <"Either of you bring jerky?">

-- Caius --

Caius was always too damn enthusiastic. Nothing gets him hopped up more than the smell of blasterized tibanna gas, as he would tell you himself. It is in this mindset, surrounded by a posse of mercs armed to the teeth, that he's stuck his head and chest out, perched on a rock formation like some wannabe General, surveying the scene before them.

<"Well would ya look at that.">, he voxes out into their common comms with manic enthusiasm. <"Target-rich /farkin'/ environment."> Apparently, he's out front of the formation, and while in some cover, he's out exposed. At least he's wearing a helmet...

-- Hahtavi --

A X-17A Air Speeder arrived a bit ago and was parked well back from their meeting point, hidden in the dunes. The pilot, a Mandalorian, met up with Hadrix and exchanged a few words with some of the others he knows gathering here. Then Hahtavi advanced on foot and accepted a cue on a good position for cover with a view of the fortifications ahead from his Al'verde.

There's a turn of his helmet to reguard the woman's who's come along with them - Aryn. Nothing need to be said as this Kora crawls up behind the hide that Hadrix set up for them the night before. Rifle off of his back, Haht uses his helmet's zoom optics to study the layout ahead.

Without saying a word, Hahtavi reaches down to his belt pouches and opens one up. From it one of a couple of baggies of bantha jerky is removed and handed to Hadrix. Haht always carries a few rations and water on him, especially on Tatooine where he's been spending a lot of time lately.

-- Adalee --

Adalee's no fan of dunes! Or deserts! Or, really, sand in general. Her armor helps, but at the cost of retained heat. She walks next to Tovani and Khalim, persiring every step of the way. There was likely a rather disgusting conclusion to this outing awaiting the half-sephi's peeling out of that armor.

On the upside, Ada is the sneaky sort, and she naturally finds patches of cover to slip to as they near that ruined old complex. She nods at Khalim and Tovani's guidance, pressing her back against the rock wall as she inches further ahead. She isn't a crack shot, or any sort of commando, but she seems at least passingly familiar with the weapon she holds in her hand.

-- Aryn --

Aryn is hidden, and hidden well. Thanks to the battle hardened duo of Commander Hadrix and Hahtavi, she remains within the confines of solid cover with a decent vantage from her spot. She pulls up her hood, hiding her face, but not the bright blonde that hangs out near her neck. "I daresay they look dug in. Should an advance take place, there may be many wounded. Were there no other routes to take?"

The wind blows Aryn's cape out a bit, and she draws a silver pistol from a fine leather holster, holding the treasured weapon up with its muzzle oriented skyward. "Perhaps they might be convinced off this mad path; to surrender peacefully to the constables?" Naive but hopeful, she looks to the soldiers with her for a bit of guidance. When the Commander inquires about jerky, Aryn smiles. "This hardly seems the time for a snack, Commander. Heehehe."

-- Kohnner --

The desert suited a Klatooinian, given that their own home world was built rather similarly to Tatooine. In fact, the paddy frog was a delicacy among the Hutts who could easily transfer it from there to here, as it was usually eaten alive. So despite how much Kohnner hated this planet for various reasons, usually because every time he was here he got shot at or into some type of altercation, he was at least able to stand being in the environment.

So here he was again, entering some type of altercation, probably because he was being paid. It was for good cause though, he knew that much, despite the creeds of the others he was operating with. The Canine stood behind a broken speeder, not really attempting to hide, at least being provided some cover. He was not at all adept in ranged combat or sneaking. Cover was not an option for those who cherished up close and personal combat with that of the blade of fists.

Nothing was said to the others in the party, instead he placed his helmet on his head before his left hand rested at the hilt of the blade that rested at his left side. He breathed in deeply, the filter in his armor getting rid of some of the dust the hot air kicked up. His white hooded cloak swayed a bit as his helmeted head surveyed the area. Nothing yet worth noting.

-- Xavier --

The state of this Tatooine landmark is in disrepair made all the worse for the interlopers who have seized it as their own base of operations. From here, the Missing Hand have been launching raids on the camps of local scrappers, attempting to seize smaller moisture farms, and initiating gang wars in an attempt to absorb territory. It is here they gather their spoils and here they have dug in their roots to defend their holdings with several automated, mounted turrets along the cliff's edge with their barrels facing outwards.

How many of the Hand remain is not known. A few freighters were seen leaving the area soon after the fall at Beggar's Canyon, but scouts surveying this location have seen evidence a burst of activity. Enough to call the cavalry in once again.

But no member of the Missing Hand come out to greet them. Instead, a door slides open to allow a trio of modified KX-series Enforcer Droids to tromp out with rifles gripped in metal clamps and optics burning red.

"TRESPASSERS. TRESPASSERS. DEADLY FORCE INITIATED. LEAVE THE AREA AT ONCE."

-- Tovani --

A choice is made in an instant and Tovi glances to Khalim and Adalee. They can see the gears working, the commitment written across her face. "Keep her safe," is all she says to Khalim before winking at both Adalee and the mirialan.

She is moving forward towards the near vertical wall, worn natural footholds allow her to begin scaling, the smasher armor giving her some extra grip as the wroonian hauls herself up, straining against the outcroppings to finally gain the top where the turretrs are and rolls across the ground to stay alow, finding a place to tuck herself as she assesses how they are run, eyes searchign for wires....or flesh bags that run them.

She lifts her hand to dust at her face and clear away some of the grime in her mouth.

-- Tamsin --

Tamsin, with a keen eye on the remains of the settlement ahead, cast her eyes to the turret mounts first, and then the doors as the three battle droids made their way out. Despite the fact that there was likely no one near enough to hear her, the good doctor's tone was wry. "If they can afford that sort of armament, why are they on this backwater stealing scraps from moisture farmers?" Ah, well, some questions were eternal and had no answer. Tamsin, activating her goggles, made use of the terrain mapping function as she began to plot the best routes to reach any of the team that were downed.

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel doesn't pays much attention to random people with stabby things skulking off to do..whatever. No. Right now, he has some nice tasty cover and concealment. Rather than leave it, he stays low, in cover, head and shoulders barely exposed. Two shots rip off towards one of the droids, red bolts lighting up as the firefight begins in earnest!!

.....alas, one of the shots just smashes into the desert, and the other skips off a nearby building. <<KL, Contact front. Suppressing.>>

-- Bizz --

Brother Bizz fumbles around in his kod'yok-hide satchel. Out comes a glowing ball of Naboo core matter - a booma ball. "Droids, they have filthy droids! Watch out!" He hurls one of the booma balls and it impacts on KX-Xesh's chestplate, splashing everywhere. Metal and circuits sparke as the corrosive core matter destroys vital components Gungan-style.

-- Grafn --

And so Grafn readies his weapon, takes slow aim and peels off a couple of shots towards one of the droids. Nestled snug into his cover, the old soldier does little to relinquish what cover is afforded his portly frame. Two red streaks of blaster fire are shot off towards the droid in question, pew pew so to speak. The first shot firing off wide, the second inching closer. Even as the two shots are fired, he shifts faintly, hiking his arm to wipe at his brow as the heat beats down upon this crew of mercs. Shifting oh so faintly, comfort is something his body aches for, and there's none to be found here as he kneels in the dust, while obtaining a faint patina of Tatooine sand himself.

-- Khalim --

'Keep her safe'. Khalim looks to Tovani as she prepares to scramble away, a nod in affirmation offered but that look she receives is hard even behind that opacity of that armored visor. "You be safe, Samar'ii." Turning back to Adalee the mirialan spares a chopping hand gesture aimed at the rock face they've been skirting. "Keep low. Stay in cover. Shoot back." A pause, "You'll be fine."

But would he? As Khalim's attention returns to the trio of droids ranging in their direction one of them takes a dramatic hit by way of thrown boomer ball. It sparks wildly, but does not go down, prompting the mirialan to dart in its direction, pistol held to fore. A quick trigger pull lances a bolt of screaming gold into its metallic torso, rupturing enough remaining critical components to send the droid tumbling into a ruined heap. One of its two remaining partners receives a quickly snapped bolt in follow-up which wings it upon the right torso. It appears damaged but fights on.

-- Fshmaw --

Fshmaw, watching Risslan's bravery in the style of Alex Murphy, is markedly less... enthusiastic... about his attacks, attempting deliberate precision. But, too, Risslan's fate must be fresh on his mind, as his shot fails to land...

-- Risslan --

Risslan voices to Hadrix in a rattling hiss, "o yastrya sund shyil oyindzi sund ixo ozop uswabryan bryamlya." Teeth are bared and a rattle stirs in the reptile's throat. When the mechanical welcoming committee emerges, the Trandoshan adds to the Mandalorian, "scraosm yip zyilkya. scraosm sonbli," before screeching a roar of challenge at the top of his lungs, and assailing the deadly automatons, carbine blasting away. It is a very bold and unwise strategy.

The young warrior manages to shoot just well enough to make himself a target, a d all five turrets converge fire on Risslan, who is badly wounded a d thrown from his feet by the concussive blasts. Barely an instant later, a clawed hand plants on the ground and- snarling- he begins climbing back to his clawed feet. "sund straippryap... smoou.. sund yimaeism." [Language: Dosh]

-- Caius --

Caius was just about to rush out of cover himself when the Trandoshan took the liberty of doing that before him. He garbles out a response past his vox-scrambler to this. It's probably a great big laugh. In any case, now that the duty of serving as bolt sponge has gone to someone else, Caius settles further into his cover and takes a shot at the 'naded droid instead - and it's dead. Another garble. Disappointed. He flicks his rifle towards Zerek in frustration and fires. Hits. And fries it. Happy garble.

-- Hadrix --

Helmet lifted enough for his mouth to be exposed and some jerky shoved in his cheek, Hadrix smirks before the bucket is down again, <"I only brought yai'yai, always time to snack."> offering the bag to Aryn before it is given back to Hahtavi. Just in time for the emergence of angry droids and turrets beginning to power up.

Reaching to his belt and grabs an awkward, double ball, shaped bit of ordinance from where it's snugged, <"Rainy days and all that eh?"> a broken stone and ice chip sound that distorts on his helmet comms, laughter. Nodding to Aryn and Hahtavi from within the blind the Al'Verde Kora rolls to his feet and springs out, rocket tubes on the side of his right poleyn extending as he goes, switching to comms for Mandalorians and Princess of Alderaan alike,

<<"Hahtavi - ordinance. Princess - maybe a little hooboo jooboo?">> grunted out before his arm swings around heaving the bizarrely designed grenade out even while he is walking, skidding in a quarter-kneel to send two rockets spiraling after from their tubes. A sphere like a lightning storm contained in a globe bursting and surrounding one of the KX units, setting it to jittering and stuttering while auto-turret fire goes off, spinning the Mandalorian off his feet with shots to arm and leg on the same side - spinning him off his feet.

A momentary issue, with an obnoxiously showy rejoinder in the form of the purple armored figure kicking out, krayt scale cape flaring out and heavy beskar shod boots spraying out sand from beneath them when he lands, continuing his forward march, head turning towards the Dosh, <"I don't speak reptilian...">

-- Hahtavi --

Jerky is handed back and Hahtavi puts it away. He doesn't want any of it in his mouth while he's in combat. With his luck he'd choke on it and that would be embarrassing. He keeps his attention forward on what's going on as things begin to break loose. This Kora watches a Trandoshan rush out and get the attention of the turrets. A grimace behind his helmet.

There goes Hadrix! Others are focusing on the droids so Hahtavi has his eye on the nearest turret. <<Wilco, ori'vod.">> Instead of reaching for jerky, Hahtavi drops a hand to pull one of his grenades and thrusts himself up out of the sand. His jetpack fires off and his boots leave the ground at speed, rushing up and zooming in on those cliffs! <<"Those turrets have got to go!">> He's on it but doesn't realize he grabbed a cryoban grenade instead of the ion grenade he'd intended.

Zoom! Up flies the Mandalorian who activates the grenade in hand and cooks it off a moment before he carefully drops it into the turret's nook in the cliff wall, boots hitting that same wall as he redirects and keeps flying!

The grenade /almost/ falls out before it goes off but the blast still catches the turret and freezes it up in the resulting explosion!

-- Adalee --

Adalee follows Khalim's guidance. She's a smuggler, not a fighter, and this is not her element. Tovi receives a grim smile before she runs off to clamber up that cliff face, and as Khalim starts shooting the half-sephi scootches forward, in cover, from one shadow to another, and aims her pistol.

So anyway, she started blasting, and one of those blaster bolts actually manages to hit, blowing chunks of metallic debris off of one of the turrets! "Yeah!" she yells, fist pumping in the air. Yep, not a regular in a gunbattle.

-- Aryn --

Aryn declines the bag with a calm gloved hand gesture, then looks onto the battlefield to attain her bearings. There is a lot happening at once, and with so many people moving, Aryn has a tough time following it all. Hadrix takes to the air, giving orders to use, "Hoobu-juju?" She didn't even repeat it right, but she assumed he meant leveraging her abilities with the Force. Her pistol is sent back to her holster and Aryn calls the eccentric curved hilt from her belt, activating the weapon a second later to produce its sapphire 'edge' with a SNAP-HISS.

<"Our fair companion is pinned in the open. I will join him in his assault and ensure he makes it to the end."> Aryn springs from her cover and runs toward the down Trandoshan, inheriting the ire of the turrets that fire down on her position and advance. Inherent senses guide her steps from danger as she arrives in just the right moment to cut down the final mechanic foe man with a single slice of her weapon.

The lightsaber bisects the droid, prompting it to hit the ground, twice, molten edges glowing orange and wires sparking. Aryn casts a glance toward the Trandoshan and smiles. "Have you the gumption to continue, sir. With me now!" The wind blows Aryn's cape to one side as she puts herself between Riss and ranged danger.

-- Kohnner --

As the defenders of the battlements marched outwards, there was a low grumble from Kohnner. "Stang Droids..." he announced in his low growling tone. He didn't like them, and didn't use them. The Canine observed patiently, hand resting on that hilt of his sword. He steps a leg up on the speeder in front of him and leans forwards a bit as blaster fire erupts against the droids. The Gungan device was a bit of a surprise, not to mention the charging Trandoshan, lite up by return fire from the droids. If cringe face was audible, it would come from the Klatooinian.

In the moment, with the way things were going, it made more sense to just stay put and let the ranged fighters contend with the turrets in order to open up the field. Yet... not many of them did that. Kohnner sighed and waited... waited... waited.

Compared to his crazy antics on Tion, climbing up on and charging an well armed and Armored APC earning the title of Hero of the Revolution 'Dogface' or so some would claim, Kohnner was subdued. It was those turrets and droids. He knew them to be deadly and knew them to be resilient against even the strongest attacks. Thankfully the force was large.

As the Jedi attacked, causing some pause in the Canine as the blue lightsaber sprung forth, Kohnner too that moment to remove himself from his cover. He didn't run, but he walked briskly through the sands as the remaining turret took a shot at him. There he found his way to Aryn and the Trandoshan. "Let's get him to cover so you might mend him for more action if he wishes..."

Klatooinian's were known for their strength and dexterity but... a Trandoshan? They were heavy and thick. Kohnner huffed and puffed but the large alien was a bit too thicc for even him. "Sorry... but a moment..." Eventually, and in a rather awkward position (Dragging his charge by the ankles.) He was able to get them behind a rock not too far away. He was out of breath and rested himself against the rock by leaning into a hand pressed against it. "Okay... was that it?" He asks in regards to the battlement's defenses.

-- Xavier --

What had been a lovely if abandoned-ish outpost has erupted into a frenzied free-for-all. Cryo and ion grenades are exploding in splashes of spark and ice. Small rockets screech through the air like banshees leaving streaks of smoke trails in their wake and rendering some of the ruins even more ruined. Red streaks of energy rip through the atmosphere, peppering the trio of droids that barely got their warnings out before they are being surrendered to the sands of Tatooine. A Mandalorian is flying through the air. A Jedi is swinging a lightsaber. A Trandoshan is face-down on the ground after a glorious run. People are tactifully climbing cliffs, shooting from cover, dragging the injured.

All the while, turrets are locking here and there; spotting their targets and opening fire without prejudice. All are equal in the sensors of a cold, unfeeling turret.

But the KX-series droids crumple one after the other and while one turret is frozen in place and another is fritzing from damage. All looks like it's on the upswing early save for a few minor.... or major if you're a lizardman... injuries.

That upswing does not last as the tarps and shutters built into the cliffside beyond the remaining turrets open up and reveal barrels pointed outwards. The members of the Missing Hand who have remained beyond to defend their foothold on Tatooine come to arms with a voice booming through a vocoder roaring. <<"Kill them all!">>

-- Tovani --

One of the turrets near her has been struck, by what Tovi can not see where she has taken cover, edging forward little by little but once she has a direct line of sight she moves, springing up now that the turrets are distracted. The Wroonian covers the open ground, leaping forward with long strides before she flips forward and slides in along her leg and hip, coming in along the bottom of the turret.

As she pulls hesrelf closer she reaches beneath and strikes at the wiring that is exposed at her level. The turret sparks and flares, going dead as she can hear the power supplied to it winding down before she sees the open wire to the next, keeping low as she pulls herself to it and strikes the wire, not fully but it causes her to pull back as the thing flares up in her face, blinding her for a moment.

-- Kin-Li --

Kin-Li Kel swaps over to a more appropriate weapon. The carbine, ineffectually doing nothing, is simply dropped from the Mandalorian's hands, where a sling jerks tight, catching it mid-fall. He pulls the T27 from over his back, linging up a shot. Alas, the blaster bolts simply bounce off the turret, doing nothing.

-- Tamsin --

With the downed Trandoshan being covered by the Jedi and pulled, partly, to safety by the Klatoonian, Tamsin popped up from behind the truck he had been crouching behind, her voice coming briefly across the comms to which she was connected, <"Hahtavi, I'm on the field."> But she moved as she spoke, seemingly more concerned with getting to the patient than she was with being shot at, though she had learned battlefield medicine from the best and she managed to charge at just the right speed to seem to avoid the spray of blaster bolts that tried to chew up the ground at her feet. Once she had made it to where the small group was clustered, she took a knee, "I'll handle the damage, you're better protection than I am." And then to to the Trandoshan, "I can get you patched up, just prop yourself up so you still have a good line of sight."

-- Grafn --

Grafn rises from the dust, pushing up with an awkward stumble as his left leg had gone slightly numb. A roar as he advances a proud step like a dreadnaught advancing across waves of sand. The aged and portly merc roars forth his defiance as he witnesses the medic moving to asist the young whipper-snapper who ran out so bravely. Two shots are fired off towards the angry and sour-faced Mandalorian, each shot flung wild as the old former Imp fires off a couple of shots in the general direction of the apparent leader.

Each shot fired on the move, his footfalls thudding in the sand as he pushes off, his white-grey hair buffetted gloriously by the winds and the motion. A wild snarl erupts across his face, those teeth, oh those gloriously abundant teeth are bared. And then the turrets focus on the portly and lumbering merc, as graceful and youthful as he feels for the moment. The first shot slams into his stomach, and the aged former-Imp is flung off his feet backwards with a grunt and much flecking of spittle.

Ow. The second catches him just mid-spin, twisting him about as he flails artfully, and hits the ground hard with a breathless wheeze and a muttered exultation of. "... fark..." Oh that hurts. A wheeze follows as the aged fellow rolls over, peering down at the burnt and sand-encrusted impact points. "Hello ground, my old friend..."

-- Khalim --

It's chaos, madness fueled by explosions and fire and the streaks of tibana-excited bolts from a score of blasters. Khalim still manages, somehow, to retain the coverage of both shadow and a narrowly jutting outcropping of rock. The occasional bolt disintegrates bits of that rocky shield, but largely in the form of stray shots.

Khalim leans, exposing himself for a few long moments as he sights upon one moderately distant blaster turret. It's got tell-tale marks of damage, even sparking a bit through rends in a bent plasteel plate. The mirialan sights, squeezes, and spears it with a bright golden lance of charged particle destruction. It explodes, raining shrapnel below. A second turret is quick-sighted, but that bolt impacts harmlessly a meter distant.

Rather than seek new cover, closer cover, the mirialan settles back into his spot and glances down to check the charge of his pistol's now well-drained powerpack. It blinks red.

-- Risslan --

Risslan had clawed himself up to a knee, shaking his head to clear blood and sand from his red eyes, the humble little military carbine still clutched in the claws of his left hand to see a human with a laser sword, her cloak and hair blowing in the desert wind, ask him if he had the gumption to continue. The young warrior growls, "yastrya wha fryight smyip stoscroza qaezyapto sonbli zhaeltorst. ojiriwn sonbli zhaeltorst." The Trandoshan levers himself higher when Kohnner bravy hazard life and limb to drag him to safety. The Klatooinian could likely have dragged him much more effectively if Risslan were more cooperative about being dragged away from glory, struggling and thrashing to rejoin the charge. "hi yalkyirv yag? scryajdya! scryajdya. yarl blo zhip prijlya."

When the canine humanoid gets him to cover and considers what to do next, they are joined by Tamsin, who had selflessly ran through turret fire to assist him. Risslan throws away all that hard work by lurching right back out, leaving a smear of blood (or maybe it was gumption) on the stone, rasping to Tamsin, "ojiriwn wryi faembsqokraex smoyalyilp whomborst- sund pra ikyilt!" and blasts away at the revealed defenders. "sund straippryap smoou sund yimaeism!" [Language: Dosh]

-- Caius --

Mandos jetting around. A lightsaber phwooshing over there. Blaster bolts and 'nade explosions. Caius is in the middle of a warzone, and it's here that he finds himself in his element. That being said, his element is tunnel-vision, and he only focuses on a few things in front of him - Grafn, especially, when he rushes out of cover to charge the Mando. Caius already had eyes on the bastard anyway, but the reckless advance had inspired him to leave his own cover to fire a shot at the assumed leader of this group. Take out the head, in his head, and the chicken flails about helplessly. He stops mid-stride, aims, hitches a breath, fires... and takes him out. Hit him in the leg and all, but that was enough. And now he's totally exposed. Not that he gives a damn, because he's garbling out what seems to be a giggle.

-- Hadrix --

'Kill them all!'

His armor would be slivers if he notched it for every time he'd heard that. Head shaking on his approach, lifting an extravagantly visible weapon that has been carried with one hand while he's been throwing grenades and firing rockets. Gold plating over the bronzium barrel and the wrooshyr furniture.

<"Get in line."> the juxtapoition of posh, Coruscanti elite accent over a voice that's more growl and rasp than anything rumbling from the helmet vocoder. A Toggle flicked sets the modified pressurization chambers to a whumWhumWHumWHUmWHUM humming. A draw on a bolt slots a durasteel bolt into the launch chamber.

"Kill them all." speaking inside of his helmet, shaking his head as he goes, the targeting whip on his helmet swinging down and feeding to both HUD and his bionic eye, bracketing a target. When the missile lets go, it moves in a shallow arc, guidance systems overcorrecting it into a battered side of the building, blowing fresh holes in it. "Kriffing thing..."

The titanic rifle speaking shortly after, even with the kick of the rocket launcher and the heft of the weapon. A brilliant shooting star crossing with a SHOOOONK. The armored, and mocked, figure thrown back by the shot.

-- Adalee --

Debris rains down over Adalee from her little hidey hole, as blasters strike around her, but not at her. "Kriff," she bites out, the expletive sounding perhaps a little but odd coming from the normally understated, even sweet smuggler Captain. The blaster turrets dwindle in number as they're blown up one by one. Khalim's pop out of cover to shoot at one gives her a target and she rises out of cover just long enough to plink two bright red blaster bolts at the one he'd just missed. She, of course, misses too. "I need practice," she laments, holding her pistol with a renewed grip.

-- Hahtavi --

In the rush of rocketeering, Hahtavi didn't even notice right off that some of the turrets blasting at him actually hit him. Belatedly he can feel the heat that splashed over his armor at his left leg and his right upper arm. Pain slowly blossums, adrenaline of combat making such things distant - until they aren't.

Lots of things happening fast and all at once. Several turrets firing, people coming out of the cliffs and dwellings below. Hahtavi twists around above the cliffs to get his bearings and a quick look at what's going on. He sees the huge Mandalorian come out but that one immediately attracks plenty of fire from his teammates. Hahtavi also hears Tamsin even as he's lifting his rifle.

<<"Are you all right? Do you need me, Doctor?">> Because he's a little busy at the moment, but this Kora will drop everything if Tamsin needs him.

In fact, Haht drops like a rock and for an instant, his boots hit the ground /right/ in front of some dude coming out. His Galaar fires and the first bolt is a miss but the second takes the Second in Command down, drilling a burn hole right through the chest. The body collapses with a look of complete surprise into the dust.

Then he's turning his head to try and locate Tamsin, distracted. Great way to get shot.

-- Fshmaw --

Fshmaw didn't sacrifice protection for a better angle, given these odds and these combatants. Whether it was tactical brilliance or just spoiling his shots, he couldn't seem to land a hit! He contributed to the chaos, in general, and remained unhurt beyond bumps and scratches. Surely success comes in many flavors!

-- Aryn --

Aryn is witness to the brief interlude between Risslan, Kohnner, and Tamsin, who has arrived to treat Riss. Contrary to both Kohnner's suggestion, and Dr. Cas' comments, it seemed the Trandoshan indeed had the gumption to charge on. Aryn figured the warrior was one to continue, as Trandoshan were among the few who could regenerate and heal in totality. It's why a battalion of them were feared!

Motioning him on, Aryn followed after and charged their foemen.

When she came within striking range, Aryn stepped into a graceful twirl, dragging the hilt of her weapon up to cut down one grunt. The attack was not brutal, it was masterful in that it applied enough force behind it to achieve its intended task without dismembering the person. The passage of the blade made a static noise, cutting through their protective armor and clothing to find a vital spot beneath. When her blade emerged, it was with the burst of ashen embers, and it did not rest because Aryn moved with a cyclic grace, transitioning beautifully to the next foe.

Had they an opportunity to react beyond surprise, they may have said something more than 'WAIT', but it was too late. Like the foe before, Aryn committed to the action, cutting through the weapon he presented in an effort to block the sapphire blade, and touching his torso in a brief, static-sound moment. When Aryn's weapon had traveled its full length, it hummed at her side opposite of where her cape settled along her back, and she raised her hand to release a torrent of unseen energy, but it did little more than stir up dust! ACK!

-- Fshmaw --

Fshmaw's ungraceful, seal-like dive to shield the doctor results in a blistering *fzzt* burning a smoking hole in his coat, singeing the tough hide beneath. That's right, 'tough hide,' not 'protective blubber.' Tomato, to-mah-to, though.

-- Kohnner --

Kohnner is a bit too preoccupied to get anything other than a few glances at the combat and new troops being offered for sacrifice down range. There were explosions, blaster fire, so many other things going on all at once. Then the Trandoshan ran off. Unable to know what the very injured one was saying, he simply shrugged and looked back up towards where the fighting was happening. He was about to turn towards those he thought was with them, only to find the Jedi had moved on and so had the others.

That's when he realized how dumb he had been. Cover was for the weak. The Enemy was there in front of him If He hesitated he would die.

So he huffed and growled, like any Canine would before trudging out from cover and bearing down on some of the lower grunts that the Jedi was now assaulting. He drew his blade quickly and let it deeply cut through the center mass of a young warrior. Shocked but not dead, he followed up with a downward chop, delving deep into flesh and seemingly almost separating the body down a line from shoulder to hip. It was a bloody mess given the implement used. He went after another but they were already on the retreat. That's when the turret launched two salvos at him. One missing, the other hitting his hard and new armor in the hardest part. Center mass. It sparked and smoked, sending him stumbling back a bit. He growled, but it wasn't overly offensive. <<"Blasters... I hate blasters...">>

-- Xavier --

The volley is merciless as the defenders of Tatooine open up on the remannts of this outworlder gang that has been terrorizing the denizens. The large Mandalorian Krol Roval issues his orders then is immediately faced with a barrage heading in his direction. Lithe and quick, he dodges and weaves around the varied attack, anticipating them as a trained warrior could. What he doesn't anticipate is a dozen other trained fighters on the field including another Mandalorian unleashing holy hell in the shape of a literal, concussive bolt into right into his chestplate.

Krol staggers back, coughing up blood inside his helmet; his arm flailing wildly to the large man next to him. <<"Skorath! Get out there and--">> But his second-in-command Skorath is gone: erased by another Mandalorian while a lightsaber cuts through his forces and expert hits begin to take out his turrets, as well.

It's possible Krol was considering igniting his jetpack and taking off. If so, he isn't given a choice as another hit brings him low. The Mandalorian in the brown and blue armour staggers, falters, and falls.

The turret fire is lessened to less than half of what they started with and the remaining Missing Hand footsoldiers see their leadership crumble. Abandoning their weapons, they scurry out of their fortified positions and make a run for it.

-- Tovani --

The firefight is a hot one down below and Tovani is staying clear of those shots and the turrets by staying low enough but as they fire near her a ringing starts to form in her ears. It grows until its a constant presence that numbs her to most other things, causing her to wince as she makes it to the next turret and has to curl up when it fires to cover her ears. The next swipe catches the wiring beneath, exposed and ready to be struck. She scrambles across the ground to try to get at it from another angle, more sand creeping into her clothing and armor.

"Kriff..." sandpaper all over her skin. So that when she tires once more to hit the wiring the turret goes off and she drops the knife, the world spinning as she blinks and tries to roll away from it, pressing her hands over her ears.

-- Kin-Li --

<<Enough of this nonsense.>> He breaks comm discipline, clearly frustrated and annoyed.

Kin-Li seems to have had enough of 'tactical considerations' and 'suppressive fire' and 'acceptable risk versus reward.' He simply drops his T27 -- it's not as if it has been useful, anyways -- and steps out from behind the ancient piece of equipment he had been using for cover. In a blur of motion, the DH-17 at his left hip is drawn and fired three times. The first two hit, the third goes high, and the second seems to simply impact in its armored shell.

Not that it matters. The first shot managed to go through the thing's primary sensor, and it smokes, no longer firing.

-- Tamsin --

<"I'm fine, just a head's up."> Tamsin, while she didn't try to stop the Trandoshan from departing, because, well, she wasn't about to get into a fight in the middle of a firefight, instead checked the rest of the team, seeing the old man whom she did not know hitting the ground. Move on to the next you can help. A strategy that had served her well on other fields, and Tamsin popped up, passing by Risslan on her way, the momentary merger of their bodies on the turret's targeting computer sending the shot wide as she made for injured Grafn. Again, she took a knee, "I've got you."

-- Grafn --

Grafn pushes himself back, scooting a groove into the sand as he pushes himself back against the cover he so expertly left. One hand fumbles into a pocket for a somewhat crooked looking cigarillo that is lifted shakily to his lips, unlilt, but it's there and the faint tang of harsh bitter leaves is a pleasant one. A breath, and Grafn slowly lifts his rifle and swings it a touch shakily towards his target and fires off a single shot that pings off the turret. Those damn turrets, specifically the turret that hit him, or at least the one he thinks did, and then there's Tamsin. Oh. His rifle slumps heavily into the sand at his side and he offers a grin up at the medic. "That you have. How fortunate!" The hoarse exclamation is offered, cigarillo dangling from his lower lip. "I feel better already you know? Nothing too bad I hope? No need to tell me. Just feed me to the bonegnawers if need be, too heavy to roll back to the ship in this heat."

-- Khalim --

Khalim looks back, Adalee just behind him. Better secured under shadow and behind rock than he is. There's a little nod. "You're doing well. Now don't do this." A quick grin and he's shifting back around, pushing off of that bit of rocky outcropping he'd called cover and making a dash for that nearest remaining turret.

That flashing red indicator atop his pistol prompts the release of a powerpack, and it falls to the desert floor with a little sand stirring whump. As he runs, a zag now following his original zig, a replacement pack is hammered into his pistol's underside. The tell-tale whine of its power-cycle finishes with a steady, diminishing hum. The weapon is drawn to bear upon the turret now traversing to focus upon him. Bolts are exchanged, and each extracts a toll from the other. Khalim's lanced destruction, bright gold and screaming into its central armor plate, sparks and yet does not kill. But that turret's luck mirrors his own, as return fire PANGS off the mirialan's left leg. The man stumbles, knee meeting sand as he grunts in pain and exertion. <"Hit,"> he tightbeams to one pair of ears.

-- Caius --

There you go, karma. Standing there like an idiot and high on his frag, Caius takes a shot directly on the torso. <"BGRLUH.">, comes past the garble, and he hitches a hand on his torso. But there's no doubt he's /annoyed/. And he takes an annoyed aim at the annoying turret. Fires. And of course, misses. Another annoyed garble, but he stays put and maintains his aim. He /is/ annoyed.

-- Fshmaw --

Fshmaw's brow is damp with sweat as he swears in fluent gibberish, choosing to believe he'd scared the turret into Hadrix's sights as tunnel-vision occludes his perceptions. Will he pass out? Unknown!

-- Risslan --

The Missing Hand grunts are fleeing the fight much faster than the gore splattered Trandoshan can pursue, and his carbine bolts get a bit further from their intended marks with each uneven step. Blinking his left eye rapidly and the right more slowly in a futile effort to see more clearly, the young warrior gradually slows his steps, armored shoulders heaving sharply for deep breaths and a rattling growl in his throat. "uxop, pomb uxop yar!" he screeches after them. [Language: Dosh]

-- Hadrix --

Turret blast ricocheting off of his shoulder plate, Hadrix keeps his steady plod towards the enemy, long gun raised and orb igniter waling like some desert banshee of moisture farming legends. Targeter whip swung back into place on its boom mount and the big man's helmet resting just above the weapon stock, targeting system feeding fresh data to the big man's feeds.

<"That's right. Run hut'uun..."> the first viridian comet coring through armor on the last turret, sinking in and detonating its charge packs, turning it into a shower of flames, melting metal and sparks. His steps halted, twin furrows dug into the sand when the cannon's kick forces him back and the second shot goes wild, plowing into sand at the heels of the fleeing thugs. A spray of molten silicate spraying outward and becoming blackened glass.

Al'Verde Kora's path continues towards the sight of the downed Mandalorian though, head lowered and his tread a predatory stalk blended with eery grace for the heavily armored figure who glides across the sands like a blackened shadow.

-- Hahtavi --

There are a lot of people here, some he doesn't know or doesn't know well, and too many things going on for Hahtavi to track them all. He says peripherally aware of Hadrix and Aryn in case either of them needed him - but of course they don't. So this Kora is moving to close with Tamsin's position to help give her cover while she sees to their wounded.

Galaar up, and himself now back on the ground, Hahtavi fires away at the few remaining members of the Missing Hand. There aren't but a 'handful' left, har, har.

Another one drops to the firey red bolts of this Mandalorian. <<"I can see why they are missing a Hand! Pathetic thieves!">>

Sand, heat, sun, burnt flesh, spent tibianna... the smells he lives for.

-- Aryn --

Aryn witnesses the fall of the Missing Hand, each member brought down through a form of frontier justice. Aryn reserved little judgement regarding it given the previous crimes of this enemy outfit. She does not go on the attack when what's left of their foe begin to flee. She observes four healthy men running and leaving their injured companion behind.

"Alas, the others are more keen to survive the dune sea, but him? I think not. He should be given a fair chance.." Aryn continues to hold her weapon to one side, the blue distinctive against the sand and rocky backdrop. She raises her free hand, drawing upon a deep and powerful connection with the Force. In the blink of an eye, her perception of her surroundings became much more than objects occupying the vicinity; they became an extension of her. In this state, Aryn could hear things around her with much more intimacy; the beating of hearts, the pounding of feet and scattering of sand. She hones in on the injured man, and makes a gesture with her hand that seals his fate.

There is no explanation for the kinetic energy that suddenly seizes him in his retreat, he simply freezes in place and is incapable of moving of his own volition. When Aryn drug her hand back in a slightly strained motion, so too did her foe.

He was plucked up by an unseen force, and carried backward until he struck the ground back first and slid the remaining ten meters to Aryn, where he slid to a stop at the toes of her boots.

Aryn opened her eyes and stared upon him with a scarred visage, raising her Jedi weapon not to harm him, but encourage his compliance. "Sir, I regret to inform you that you will be detained. There was little chance you might survive the desert, but I can give you more even if you do not deserve it. I give you two opportunities: One, to heal of your wounds and live, and the other, face justice for your crimes."

She lifts the blue blade and allows it to hang to one side, humming. "Do you comply, sir?"

-- Kohnner --

There is one thing to say about a Klatooinian, and that was it would be best not to try and outrun them. As the group of fleeing grunt started away, Kohnner pounded a fist against his wound and howled like a vornskyr at the moons of Myrkr. <<"Get back here...">> He rumbled, taking off at a quicker run than he's displayed yet this evening. While the Foremen gets flung back away from him, he strikes out with his blade and tares through the armor and leathers of his prey. He swings again as they stumble back, missing them as they fall onto their rear. He stalks slowly forwards, the grunt picking them selves up. Kohnner allows the inexperienced soldier to rise before impaling him with his blade, blood spurting out and leaking from the exit wound. With a growl, he lifts the body up, still impaled on the sword, looking up into the now lifeless eyes of his enemy. Then, he flings his sword to the side and lets the body fly off limp onto the ground.

The two running are now too far out of reach. With a sigh and heavy breaths, he removes a cloth from one of his armor's pouches and starts to clean his blade of blood.

-- Caius --

Caius lowers his weapon with the grunt as his nemesis turret is destroyed. His frustrations are then aimed towards those that are attempting to run. Another grunt from Caius before he lowers his gun for good. He's had enough hits for today. He settles back onto a rock to sit to watch the Jedi do her thing, instead. He's chuckling, and that clues him in to how painful it is to chuckle, strained as it comes out. A sigh to calm himself, before a wave comes out towards Tamsin, trying to get her attention. <"Prolly need help here, Doc.">, he eloquates on comms.

-- Hadrix --

The downed Mandalorian is shaded by the figure in midnight purple plates, outlined in places with silver-blue and the twin suns causing an iridescent shimmer by their heat affect where the light touches.

<"No better than Death Watch..."> right hand flexing and the vibroblade mounted in his vambrace ejecting and buzzing to life. <"I'd take you back to Dxun, have a chat. But I don't have any interest in whatever etyc'jahaatir"> filthy lies, <"will come tumbling out of that ragged hole you call your mouth you laandur cetar'pehir..."> pathetic lick-spittle.

Rolled onto his chest and the connections for the pack and backplate severed, pulled aside, exposing skin before the humming blade sinks in on one side, swiftly drawn up one side of the spine and then down the other, regardless of if there is a sound made. Gauntleted fingers sink in through the cuts, a boot settling on his rump and the first yank only heaves the body upwards, the second bringing a cracking sound at the pelvis.

The third results in a ratcheting, buzzing, sound and the sight of The Boar-Wolf of Ealor bodily tearing the spine out of the back of the downed foe, flesh and sinew at the neck ripping and the head going with. Straightening, leaving the body where it lays, arms and legs akimbo and blood soaking into the sand before he walks back out into the open, vambrace blade sliding home again.

-- Xavier --

Tatoo I is beginning to creep closer to the horizon with her sister Tatoo II close behind. The sand begins to settle and the carnage can be assessed. In total, there are six formerly sentient corpses to bring to a rather large pyre. Three modified security droids in a neat little pile of melted metal, sparking wires, and red optics that are flickering in and out to match the smoldering embers still burning in their frames. Five turrets in varying degress of repose; bit it stabbed to death with a blade, blown up by a Wookiee gun, or frosted over with a cryo grenade.

Two poor souls have run into the desert to test their fate in the unforgiving sands while the Mandalorian Krol Torval and one of his foot soldiers find themselves in custody. The latter, staring up at Aryn and her glowing saber, just swallows hard and nods emphatically to his surrender. Krol is to unconscious to consent... or to see another large Mandalorian approaching him with what looks like DEADLY intent. And indeed it is. If Krol wasn't dead yet, he certaily is as now as his spinal column is removed from his body; head included.

All in all, the Outpost has sustained little additional damage. The warehouse remains in tact if empty and the facitilies built into the cliffs are still usable. The local authorities will arrive by dusk to secure the area and begin the clean-up.

Making a note here: huge success.

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The battle at Outpost Varath was as brutal as it was quick. An explosion of action that pitted mercenaries and volunteers against a branch of the Missing Hand, a violent group of scavengers attempting to take root in the Dune Sea. As the dust settles, the dead are counted and the Outpost is returned to the denizens of Tatooine. The out-worlders who had been terrorizing the populace are either run from the planet or slain where they stood their ground.

Save for two.

Deep in the Jundland Wastes, a pair of figures have taken shelter in a jagged outcropping barely shaded from the dimming orange light of the twin suns. Their backs pressed against the rock, they look out across the vastness of wasteland; hair matted to their sweaty foreheads and passing a canteen back and forth.

"Krol is dead," one is saying to the other with a gravelly grunt. "Skorath, too. All I'm sayin' is that we're not paid enough for this. The scrap here ain't even worth it and I'll be damned if I go back to base to answer to him."

The second, a younger man, chews on the bottom of his lip pensively. "We gotta go back though, right? You know how he feels about betrayers."

"Folstef, listen. You saw what happened back there. You really want any part of that? Cause that's what's waitin' for us." The older man runs his fingers through salt-and-pepper hair with a sigh. "I know a chopshop guy in Modesta, all right? He'll help us off the planet then we'll hightail it to---"

"Hightail it where?" Having been looking to the side scanning the horizon, Folstef turns back towards his companion to find him clutching his throat; mouth agape but no sound coming out. "Goln? Goln, what the hell?! What's wrong?!"

Panic-stricken, Folstef grabs Goln by the shoulders and shakes him, watching in horror as his friend's face contorts until pale grey eyes roll back and suddenly he falls to the side; what remains of his breath releasing and no inhale to follow.

"Folstef, is it?"

His heart pounding in his chest and face white, Folstef jerks towards the new voice. His gaze falls onto a tall, black-haired figure standing just a few yards away. Dark, brown eyes stare at him -- into him as two fingers rise to casually pluck the cig from his lips.

The stranger smiles, and an exhale of smoke carries his words on the breeze. "Let's talk, mmm?"