Log:Tatooine Sunburn: The Spider Auction

Tatooine Sunburn: The Spider Auction

OOC Date: September 24, 2020
Location: Kafrene
Participants: Ariel Teral, Elrych Cometburn, Hadrix Kora, Nerys Greystorm, Merek, Kael Greystorm, Jessika Pava, Aryn Cole

The Eight Legged Lady is not the most posh of venues, but, it is good for the task at hand this evening. Slaves are usually able to be bought and sold here, this is Kafrene afterall. Tonight there is a seated audience and the stage holds no dancers as there is a live slave auction in progress.

There are a number of attendees this evening. Some dressed in armor, some dressed in fine silks and being tended to by either aides or slaves that are employeed here. Either way, they are looking like they are pleased with the situation and the small offering that the Fading Sun has retrieved from Tatooine. The people here know that these were not slaves that are being resold. These were free people that were taken. But, that is of no concern to those that will be benefitting from these young women and children being sold.

One of those young women in line is Thalia and she knows this stage all too well. Though she's standing with a straight spine and her chin jutted just ever so slightly out in defiance, she knows what will happen to these children if they are auctioned off. The same thing that happened to her, or worse. She wasn't in a position to do much of anything besides try to keep the girls calm for the moment.

"My my..." Said a hushed voice inside the crowd. A mysterious figure in a green cloak, hood over his head shadowing his face from view. Dark thick rimmed shades hid his eyes and a cocky smirk played across his lips.

Elrych Cometburn had been to Kafrene before during the earliest times with the Jedi Order that he could remember. They had rescued a number of Force Sensatives from being forced to work under a mob boss on the Casino level helping the house cheat and win money from the already poor and over taxed denziens.

One of the elders had betrayed them, a former member of the Jedi Order before the fall who quickly fell to the Darkside without the guidance of wise and aged masters such as Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda...

He watched on curiously, yet to make his move, what ever that may be.

Slavers. He'd been tracking them since the last dust up in Mos Eisley, several cantinas full of bodies and at least one fire gutted ramshackle outpost on a quasi-atmosphere capable asteroid were testament to the hunt. Now they were finally here. Hadrix was just about to slip through the doors and into the crowd as his weapon of choice for tonight was tucked where the volumes of black cape would cover it.

<<"That's not very precision, Hadrix.">> <<"Doesn't need to be.">> <<"What about collateral?">> Gripper was mounted in her 'saddle' on his back, tucked away and looking like a plate of back armor. <<"I won't be aiming in the way of any of those being freed. So there won't be.">> <<"What about the buyers?">> <<"Rekk 'em. They're buyers.">>

A muttered debate between the big man and his droid over private comms as they enter the dark and the Massive Mandalorian begins quietly assessing. There's only rage there, tightly contained, a seething mass of mounting fury wrapped in weakening chains while he looks for the first target.

<<"It's going to be loud tonight, isn't it?">> <<"Very.">>

Nerys was here to buy slaves. Because slaves needed to be bought. Clearly. She sauntered in, as much as one so small count saunter, her armor polished and all of her bits and bobs shined up and on full display. It was as much a show of wealth as a deterrent to any who might wish to keep her from the merchandise she wanted. She'd even brought the strong arm of the law with her. Her law. That was him behind her. Big guy, lots of muscle? That was him. She barely gave the other buyers a glance, moving to find a seat close to the center of the action.

Merek keeps to the waist what looks to be a weapon, though for the sake of not making people come at him, he keeps that adjusted in holster. He does look to folk while he watches the slaves as well as the slavers.

Kael Greystorm nods a bit as he's walking in with Nerys, "So this is where this auction's supposed to be at?" He follows along with Nerys to stand behind her seat because he's just the muscle. Thumbs tucked onto his belt as he looks around some, "See any doctors? We'll likely need them sooner rather than later."

The maelstrom of emotions churning inside Jessika Pava is not betrayed by her calm exterior. Her face is a passive mask of determination defined only by the hard set of her jaw. And all of that is hidden behind the opaque visor of the helmet slipped over her head. Allowing sight only from the inside, Jessika surveys the Eight Legged Lady from her position just inside the entrance. It's difficult to tell anything about her in the loose fit of the clothes beneath the plasteel blastplates constituting her armor, especially with everything hidden underneath the helmet. One thing is apparent though: she's armed. Secured near her right shoulder via a single-point clip is her BlasTech A280 Blaster Rifle. She wields it at the low ready, barrel trained forward and down.

At her right hip, more forward than to the side, is the holster for her sidearm. At the left hip, the sheath for a small combat knife. There are pockets and pouches filled with necessary items, but the only thing she deems necessary to have right now is the rifle itself. Left hand under the barrel and just forward of the powercell well, her right has hold of the pistol grip, and the pair of hands allow her to pull the stock of the rifle harder into the pocket of her shoulder for a proper firing brace. Her right index finger, gloved, like the rest of her, rests alongside the trigger well, but the safety of the weapon is off and the only protection anyone has is its position. She looks every bit like security.

Aryn Cole was in a standard mercenary armor set, and it even had its own cape. This one was dark, much like the dark pine-green armor, and hung heavy because of its flame retardent material. She has a single blaster holstered, its make unknown because of the strap that kept it in place. Those who know Aryn would easily see through the ruse, but her scarred face added to the veneer of an alleged weathered Merc who was hired to guard the entrance/exit of this auction. She wears a mask that covers her nose and mouth, though her eyes are visible, and her hair has been pulled back into a tight bun, adding to the consummate professional image. Aryn stands near Jessika Pava, with her hands hooked on her gun belt casually.

"Ladies, gentlemen, not so gentlemen." The auctioneer chimes in as the evening picks up. "Coming up next is a very promising young lady. Healthy, very beautiful, would be prime for Courtesan training or whatever you wish really. We don't care really." he shrugs. Sadly, this girl is next to her brother and clamps onto him for dear life. Two of the guards move to separate the children and this causes Thalia to move from her place, which almost immediately gets her shocked by the chains she's wearing.

"They are spirited this evening, ladies and gents!" there is an eruption of laughter from the audience as bids start going in for the young girl.

It was at that moment that Elrych Cometburn stepped through the crowd. It might have appreared he was skillfully weaving through the crowd. Either way, his pace was slow and deliberate, filled with patients.

The Sunglasses wearing Corellian stepped in front of the crowd, facing down the guards with that crooked grin of his, the lights from above reflecting in the dark dark shades. "I'll take them all and I won't take no for an answer..." He aparently hadn't got to gether with the other team mebers to throw together what ever plan he could. "I'm serious... I've got a Kriffff ton of money."

This Jedi had been known for his brazin stupidity and lack of strategy other than charging head forward and facing the problem head on. He was brash and full of himself, no wonder he was such a damn good pilot. Not the best qualities in a Jedi, but sometimes at the brink you just had to settle.

<<"Good thing you didn't bring the thermals...">> Gripper's quip is answered by a liquid growling over the comms as Hadrix watches children being pulled apart and a passing familiar face being shocked. Letting the cape fall around him for the moment, concealing him like a shroud and turning him into a shadow with golden geometric filigree running down one side of his helmet.

Quietly he reaches for the pistol grip to bring the weapon around and hold it under the cloth, <<"Eject and engage field observation routines on my signal.">>

<<"What's the signal this time?">> <<"Pretty sure you'll know.">> <<"Again, it's a good thing you didn't bring your detonators.">> <<"Shut up, Gripper.">>

When the brief back and forth ends, so does all sound for him, no rushing of breath within the helmet, no roar of blood in his ears or beat of heart, but a voice cuts through - known; Cometburn... Good, clear the people they're here to save out of the way. Less tightly held control needed.

"Now, now. I never treat them poorly." Nerys lifted a gloved hand, a single finger wagging in the air. "I simply believe in maintaining a certain level of discipline, that's all." Nerys vice was cool as ice and sweet as honey. "But I do hope that this isn't the best they have on offer tonight. I didn't come all this way to buy the dregs." Nerys, casually kicking a chair, still with a fellow buyer sitting on it out of her way, (Oops!) just a touch, just enough for her to take the seat closest to the stage. She used a toe of her boot to position her chair just so, do that she could look over the stage, and the 'competition.' She did look out over the gathered, pausing as she looked towards the door, chucking her chin in that direction, looking for all the world as if she were introducing her muscle to that muscle. But then the fun began, and she turned her attention to the stage, eyes descending onto the pair, the hand she had wagged in her muscle's direction lifting to display the credit chit she has spirited there. "I'll take them both." She smiled, and there was nothing kind in the expression, despite how sweet it looked, "Use one to keep the other in line, am I right?" That, she said as an aside to the big man standing behind her. When the brash young man came in and demanded the lot, she got to her feet, moving to almost, but not quite get in his face. Oh, it was going to be a showdown, "Oh, I'm not about to waste my trip here." With any luck, more of the eyes in the room would be on them, and less on the ones who were moving in the shadows around the room.

Merek looks to the people all deciding upon wanting to talk before fighting, then he finds a place to lift up his rifle and wait for if anything might begin. He does want to have a diplomatic nice win, all the same he waits about.

Kael Greystorm is still just behind Nerys although when she goes to get into Elrych's face (assuming that's who she's getting into it with) he just shakes his head a bit as he turns to take a step off to the side putting him in line with the guards, hands still resting on his belt as he just lets Nerys do the talking since she's the brains of this operation and he's well. The hired muscle.

They're here to save innocent people from slavery. They're here to liberate slaves. They're here to do everything in their power to make sure that this doesn't go down. Throughout the club, Jessika can see the various members of this little infiltration force start moving into positions to attain dominance. There are a couple of people here that she's sure want this to go down without any blood. There's at least one who probably hopes it turns into combat. Jessika? Jessika's got a fine, thin leash on her own emotions. If the woman next to her is remotely open to sensing the room, there's little doubt she can feel the tightly contained storm that is Jessika's poor control on the amalgam of negative emotions threatening to take her over.

But she's a statue at the door. It's fine. She's managing. Everything's under control. She can see Elrych starting to move forward and announcing he wants to buy the slaves. She sees Hadrix moving into a position he considers tactical dominance. It'll all probably go down without violence if Elrych's plan goes through.

There's only one small problem.

They announce the first girl to go on the block, and Jessika feels the bile rising up in her throat when the girl tries to cling to her brother and the guards start to rip them apart. For a moment, all that choked and contained rage threatens to be overpowered by something else. Behind the the impassive, featureless visor, Jessika's lips tighten painfully. When they actually finally pull the girl away from her sibling, what little tether of self control she had on herself is almost frayed to nothigness. It's like clinging to the edge of a cliff with just her fingertips. One second she's holding on, the next second she's surprised she's not plummeting. Her finger twitches down to the trigger, and it takes every fiber of willpower inside of her not to yank her barrel up and replace the head of the guard with a smoking crater that evaporates his brain.

Aryn is aware of Jessika through their connection as close friends. A few years of being in the most notorious Resistance in the galaxy together tended to forge thick bonds not easily broken. Aryn does nothing to disrupt Jessika's feelings, and perhaps she has every right to feel as she does. Aryn does not know the veteran's past, or her sensitivity to scenes like these. Aryn, who has taken a very neutral interpretation of things happening around them becomes aware of weapons making their appearance. She's clued in on Jessika's intention by the dull whine of her rifle when the soldier disengaged the safety to prime the receiver.

Aryn needed to act now.

Stepping past Jessika, Aryn pauses in front of the door guards who suddenly take a keen interest in her. Waving her hand subtly, Aryn marshalled her command of the Force to influence their mind and spoke in a low tone.

"You want to drop your weapons and /never/ return."

The sudden change in their stance, the straightening of their frames, and blankness in their eyes told Aryn all she needed to know.

The auctioneer becomes KEENLY aware of Elrych and his talk of SO MUCH MONEY. Because honestly, that's all these scumbags really wanted in the end. Cold hard credits for the exchange of warm bodies...or semi warm. Some of the merchandise might get damaged during exchanges, but, no refunds! "Sir, if you can transfer the amount of money to the data pad I'm holding then we can just square this little shin dig away and we'll all pack up for the night." he points the gavel at him.

The guards at the door give a look to Aryn and then to each other, "This job doesn't pay enough Tey." one states to the other. The two of them drop their weapons, the heavy rifles clattering to the floor and then they ghost out on their employers. It was so hard to find good help. The guards leaving does draw some worried looks and the crowd starts to grow a bit more tense.

Thalia falls, but manages to catch herself on her hands so that her face doesn't eat the stage they are on, "Please don't..." she whispers out as she watches the two children fight to stay together. But they are quickly parted, everyone turning to watch Elrych as he says he'll take all of them.

It was show time boys and girls!

Elrych was a smuggler before he was a Jedi. While he had never directly moved slaves, he had known other in the community who did. He didn't like the practice, it just rubbed him the wrong way. If it didn't, you had a seriously messed up galactic perspective.

Yet it was this experiance on the other side of the tracks the gave him the wit and ability to move within these circles for the prospect of good.

A single brow raised from behind the thick black rimm of his shades as Nerys got in his way. His smirk widened as he stepped around her, reaching into his robes. "Listen, sweetheart. You're pretty feisty and I like that. How much for a little of you in my spare time, huh?" It was of course a guise. He really didn't want anything like that with Nerys, her husband standing /right there/ and everything. It was part of the act. He produces a Datachit and holds it up near the actioneer, "Blank check, my man. What ever number you want... with in reason of course. Only catch is there's a two day hold. I know, it sucks but... hey it'll give me time to inspect the product to make sure you didn't plant a kriffin' bomb in their nasle cavity." He laughs, shaking his head, "Man... that was a messy week."

He glances an eye back towards some of the others, especially Hadrix. He might blow something up... not that the Jedi minded. Sweat beads start to form on his forehead, the heat from the lights working to warm him up. Other than that he kept his cool... even though his acting was not holo-drama levels of great. Not even close. Eat you're heart out Face.

It's fortunate he recognizes Nerys, knows the kind of person she is - or she might've been marked as a target. Fury was incorrect. Anger too. No, what he finds there when he looks within for the smallest glimpse is that old companion that has been chained to his ankle. Grown in him since the first combat lessons when a normal child would be in the most basic of primary school. Built on with each bruise, each broken bone, every foul word, shouted order, and energy-lash burning him down to raw nerves. Years of calculated cruelty and 'corrective' actions taken until that time they had to pull him off another 'trainee' in the creche; to stop him before he tore the other's throat out with his teeth. Happy Birthday, you're nine. Now get back to running, maggot, and don't forget to bring your 'friend'.

Taught to whet that into a bleeding edge razor to focus him. Tip of the Spear. The thrusting point and if that didn't work they taught him to snap the chains and let the animal out. The Hammer. Children torn apart from one another. That was the part that clawed at the resolve the most. He knew it was self talk. All in his head, a personal, conscious, manifestation of his emotions. A coping method - but it still doesn't change the fact that the other part of him wanted out.

Not yet.

He was shaking, a tremor really, all along his body. The Jedi was doing his thing. Let him try. Get the people clear. Get them away safe. Track the slavers, follow them back to their little lair. Unless Cometburn's plan doesn't work. Then we'll go with Plan Besh.

<<"Hadrix your heart rate is escalating.">> <<"I know.">> <<"You need to breathe.">> <<"I. Know.">>

"Sweetheart?" Nerys' voice dripped with saccharine sweetness, "You could not afford me." She sniffed, looking as though she had suddenly caught a bad smell. And then she laughed, "Oh, but I do like your spirit." And then she did turn to the auctioneer, such as he was, "Pay now, inspect later? Let's see if we can up the stakes here. Why don't we inspect //now//. And then, we can fight over who gets to pay you more credits?" She glanced towards the stage, and the young woman, who, would, perhaps in the eyes of many, not look so different from herself. Same height, though slightly slimmer, red-haired, green-eyed. Nearly the same age, "Perhaps we should start with that one. I like her spirit." She took a step to approach the girl, her face just turned away from the auctioneer, canted just so, so that Tahlia could see it in full light. And despite the ugliness of her words, her eyes and her expression were kind.

Merek looks from the place which he found, with black armor on along with the nice orange lines that shimmer, waiting with that rifle in case they need people with them for fighting. He seems to be considering, taking the time to look at each and every guard.

Kael Greystorm sputters just a bit at the sweetheart thing and then blinks shaking his head. Then he looks around the room making eye contact with any recognizable faces in the crowd before his stance shifts as Nerys moves closer to the stage he moves to adjust his angles of fire to be able to cover her when the inevitable bloodshed starts. Or maybe this will end juuuust fine.

The guards sharing the space near the door with them abandon their weapons and leave thanks to Aryn's intervention. Had Jessika failed to maintain some small measure of self-control, though, they wouldn't have been her immediate targets. That honor is reserved for the other one near the stage. Jessika doesn't even want to shoot him. She'd rather sling her weapon and show him what it feels like to get dragged around. Thrown around. Beaten within inches of life and then having those last, precious seconds of it taken away with her hands around his neck. Jessika is close to slipping off the slippery slope she's perched on. Her fingers are gripping the barrel of her blaster rifle and its handle so tightly that she can't feel them anymore. Just the ache.

This is taking too long. Jessika hates every second of it. The only thing that stays her finger is the fact that she knows squeezing off rounds at the guards is going to cause a firefight, and while she's entirely capable of going only for hostile targets, she doubts the worthless wastes of air serving as jailers to the people being auctioned off would do the same. They might even take delight in getting to fire blindly and indiscriminately into the crowd. No, as much as she wants to replace every face of every guard with a blaster bolt, she helps no one but herself by doing so, and she's not going to be that selfish. These people deserve rescuing, and if that means she has to keep it together just a little longer, then she's going to. She hopes. Her tongue tastes something metallic and she realizes she's bit a small section on the inside of her lip so hard that it's trickling blood.

<"Hurry. Up."> It's a strained voice and a quiet message relayed to every single individual in their little cadre of rescuers meant to convey that time is of the essence, because the longer they drag this farce out, the more likely something is going to go wrong.

Aryn picks up the two weapons left on the ground and deposits them into a rubbish bin nearby, dusting her hands off in that pompous way only a rich noble girl might pull off. In doing this mundane task, Aryn notices that there are surveillance cameras in this room. Feeling the threatening ebb of violence washing in like an unwanted tide, Aryn takes the initiative to do something about their security.

Using a subtle gesture of her hand, she angles the camera up, then another, then the one across the room. Soon, they're all 'up' and oriented away from the action. Aryn returns to Jessika's side quietly, standing a little closer because she felt her presence might give her some support. It was a selfish thought to think Aryn had that kind of influence, but she hoped Jess knew the reason behind this gesture even if she had not voiced it.

Her gaze turns back to the crowd, and she takes in a deep breath.. releasing it a moment later. She wondered if this moment was what people referenced as having palpable tension in the air. For the air to be so heavy with it, she seemed to breath it in easily enough..

Nerys is let up on stage to 'inspect' the goods. The children have calmed, but only slightly. Thalia has been left to be inspected by the incoming woman and the former Courtesan tries very hard to not let her fear show, the kind look helped with some things. She gathers herself up from the ground and gives a dip of her head to Nerys, but, her emerald gaze goes back to the kids as she makes sure they aren't being hurt.

Elrych almost had things in the bag, but, there is a frown that creases the auctioneers face and he shakes his head, "The payment isn't clearing, Mister." he tells him. Then the guards are moving and there's a whole lot of buzz going through the air and there are buyers that start to head for the doors to leave, sensing that something was about to go down.

THIS WAS IT!

The chained people are left onstage with only the auctioneer and Nerys. If there was a time to strike it was now.

"Yeah I said there was a two day hold what are you stu-" Elrych started, but then the others started to leave. "Alright, I'm done playing around now." He raised a hand, ushering his command over the force to erupt an air blast near the auctioneer. The table, papers, everything went flying. Though there wasn't likely any kind of Injury to the auctioneer himself. "Nynir, Hadrix..." He must have picked that word up here and there. To 'Strike' in Mando'a.

Elrych's other hand reached into his robes and pulled out his darkstar and angle shine lightsaber. With a quick press of the activation button, the plasma beam hummed to life illuminating the area in a brilliant mephite blue. The humm was but a whisper though, the blade rather stable. "Alright, alright, alright..." He grinned.

Nerys, who breezed by the guards, sauntered up to Thalia, ever inch of her looking the arrogant you know what she was pretending to be. But her expression was still kind, as she reached Thalia, lifting a hand to cup the air by Thalia's cheek, dipping her fingers close enough to almost touch, but not quite, looking as though she both knew and expected for the girl to dip her head away from her. She even leaned in, as though to get a closer look. And when she spoke, it was quite, barely above a whisper. "Hold your hands still, I don't want to shock you. When I tell you to move, gather them all together and stay low." And then Nerys moved, her off right gloved hand grabbing for the lead of the chain that was holding Thalia and the others captive on a string, she aimed for one of the conduit nodes, a tight grip of her hand activating the lead of the spiker she had repurposed for tonight's business, using it like a burst of electricity to short out the circuitry. "Down, now!" And with her strong left, she drew the sword that had laid on her back, green crystal blade shimmering even in the dim light. Alas, that Nerys had had to leave her beloved Backpack of Holding at home.

Lightsabers are out, hands are doing that space hooboo-jooboo motion and Hadrix is in motion. Cape flung back as his arms raise, one hand on the pistol grip and the other on the bracing hold that doubles as the pump cock for the antiquated weapon. It's an enclosed room, and all of those old holos are absolute lies. People don't fire weapons like this without ear protection of some sort (put your buckets on, Mando'ade) and even then the report is terrific.

Do you want tinnitus? This is how you get tinnitus.

Blasters can be loud, screams of air 'burning' and moisture being flash vaporized. But it's far less than what happens next. The weapon used by the Mandalorian sounds like it just exploded in his hands with a SHA-FWOOOHM! Muzzle flash is like a flickering second of dragons breath. The guard is saved by flimsiplast and paper cast in its whirlwind. His aim was true, but the guard was ducking and his own hands were moving to try and the tightly choked cluster of flechette like lead balls destroy, are dispersed by the flak put out.

<"Lucky..."> Hadrix's voice rumbles over his external comms and the glowing pulse visible through his t-visor flares before. Chik-CHAK.

Merek looks to the guards while he notices the fight begins, then he takes a moment to step back from that wall which he was at, then he slides up his rifle. The man nods to one of them while he takes a shot, firing into them with a little bit of shifting from the hands, beginning to check the next, "Down!" he calls to the people being sold as slaves. The man is a warrior.

The Auctioneer watches the crowd erupt and there is a very large Mandalorian. WAIT. That's a huge Mandalorian?! The greasy looking man shakes his head and slinks back and off the stage, riding one of the empty cages down to the basement. He gives a little wave to the room before he disappears.

Blasters firing, shotguns blowing out eardrums and Nerys is on stage when it all starts going down and Kael draws his massive hand cannon snapping a shot at the fleeing Auctioneer to give him a lasting memory of this auction before Kael starts to look around folks shouting down and he just cocks his head a little bit to try and get the ringing out of it, "Was that down or town? I can't hear with all this ringing in my ears?"

There's such a thing as too mad. Jessika is too mad. When the opportunity arises, there's no such thing for her as keeping things slow, because that's smooth. Instead, she yanks her rifle's barrel up and pulls, rather than squeezes, the trigger, and rather than erase the head of the guard that she's aiming for, she leaves nothing but a carbon scoring mark against a distant wall. Not broadcasted over the microbead, Jessika's actual growl of frustration and anger is still loud enough through her helmet that Aryn can hear it. All she wants is to shoot the individuals responsible for this whole charade, and she can't even manage that because her hands are close to trembling with the amoutn of adrenaline coursing through her system like fire.

The moment transitions to violence and Aryn enters a quiet state of bliss. It was not that she took pleasure in killing, or harming. She entered this state from having interfaced wholly with the Force. The Force was with her, and it was her ally and source of strength.

In the blink of an eye, Aryn's cape brushed wide from her right as the dull grey glint of a curved lightsaber hilt was drawn to her hand, captured and activated in a single practiced motion. The sudden appearance of the sapphire blade was polarizing to the guards ahead of her who looked overwhelmed by all the sounds and sudden chaos that erupted from within; this was exacerbated by the fact that a nimble blonde girl(?) slid in front of them with a lightsaber.

The first man had only the time to say, "OH!" before the sapphire blade cut across his center just deep enough to capture the kill without it being anything more than clean; necessary. Aryn pivoted, the lightsaber humming as it passed stylishly in a spin to catch the remaining two guards. Both were cut across their centers, similar to the first man, and when the blade emerged from the otherside, it conceived a small wave of orange like embers that showered down like confetti amidst the crumbling trio.

The last man had not finished falling before Aryn deactivated her weapon, and began hooking it to her belt. "I am sorry," She issued to those dying or dead. "The galaxy is better for your passing.." Aryn glanced up searching for the others or any other impending threats.

There is running, screaming and there's general 'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!' going on with everyone. The Auctioneer does not make it out without having a battle wound to remember Kael by and he is really going to remember him as there is a shriek of pain and he falls down to the bottom of the cage that he was escaping in. Then there's the flash of lightsabers and someone screams something about getting out before they all die. There is a stampede towards the door and it's something that was expected when violence erupted.

Thalia wiggles out of the chains with a murmur of thanks to Nerys and the young woman rushes over to grab the brother and sister and start to herd them towards the back of the stage where it was much, much safer! Once the siblings are safe she goes to gather the rest of those that were chained and make sure they were safe.

For now, the fight was quick and flashy. The chained figures of children and young adults were being unchained, they had saved the day.

Elrych glanced left, then right. Left again. He strightened up and disengaged his own lightsaber. "Well... looks like I'm a bit rusty on the old con. Ah well..." He clips the cylinder on his belt and proceeds to brush off ash of dead person via Aryn's Lightsber and Merek's blaster.

Helmet turning to Aryn when she finishes off the guards. The animal is out and Hadrix stalks towards the lowering cage, footfalls heavy, head lowered, scatter gun held at low ready as he advances across. The Massive Mandalorian looks to the descending cage. Staring down at it and quietly seething.

<"There might be more down there. I'm going."> because there's a man down there - and his spine hasn't been pulled out while the man was still screaming. Pure unadulterated rage is at the epicenter of the man.

Enemies. He needs enemies.

It was all over but the shouting. And Nerys didn't even get a chance to stick anyone with her sticking thing. Bah. Well, she slipped the blade back into its sheath, before she moved to join Thalia and the rest of the would have but but now won't be slaves. "Is this all of you? Are there others we need to get out as well?" She twisted around, as she heard Hadrix making for the stopped, or mostly sopped elevator. "I'll get them out." She was not the warrior Hadrix was, but she could remove worry about anything else. namely the prisoners that needed freeing.

Merek looks to the guards all on the floor, nodding a bit, while he sweeps to begin clearing the place with a nice little check. Then he nods to people.

Kael Greystorm looks around as violence erupts and then as it dies down just as rapidly he sighs a bit sliding his blaster back into it's holster, "Time to go. Chances are there will be more guards enroute and the priority is the safety of the kids." He looks back towards the elevator and then shakes his head a bit, "Not today death trap not today." And then he starts to try and lead any of the fleeing victims of slavers away with Nerys.

"If you find him, Hadrix.." Aryn says, glancing to the large Mando. "Most slaves have some sort of explosive imparted beneath their skin. Without the luxury of time to conduct an examination of them all, he could very well be retreating to acquire the detonation device. Mercy may not be applicable here." Aryn turns to look at Elrych, offering a quiet nod, before she seeks out her friend Jessika to retreat back to their ship. Time was never an ally.