Log:The Perfect High pt 3
The Perfect High pt 3
OOC Date: October 25, 2018
Location: Hockaleg
Participants: Hopp Nooram, Tig Follox, Merek, Siha Archer, Brand, and Netep Muri
HOCKALEG
Away out in the Seswenna sector is a little star called Patriim, and around Patriim there orbits a little planet called Hockaleg, and on this pink and brown world, a small crew of assistants have followed a cantankerous old coot against all better judgment. Hopp is in the pilot seat, setting down the rented shuttle just outside a palatial villa.
"Alright, so- so- just to make sure you're all on the same page," he growls, pulling a cig from a pack in his breast pocket and jamming it into the corner of his mouth while he lights up with the jury-rigged lighter he carries, "We're here to- to- to- alright look. Gannarian narco-spice is from Gannaria, and, you know, this isn't it. This is HOCKALEG. So I know, you're thinking, what the hell are we doing on Hockaleg and not Gannaria? I- I'll- it's not important! Hockaleg is where we're gonna get it, okay, and that's final. I- maybe I know a guy in here, so- so be on your best behavior, and, like, don't say anything dumb about the Holy Jaf. That's their god around here, so just- just trust me on this one." The old man moves to the rear, activating the ramp so the others can disembark. "We're here to talk cartel business, so try and look... cartelly. Or at least like you woke up on the wrong side of the law." Then he's stomping out onto the pink duracrete, squinting towards the villa in the sunlight, puffing away at his cig.
Tig Follox doesn't need to be told twice to look menacing. She is done up in her black armor. Trimmed in gold and starting to show the signs of scuffs and scrapes. The reflective, emotionless visor of gold glints as the Mandalorian woman stands and strides to the door after Hopp, slightly turning the bucket helmet to glance back at the others on the journey. "Roger," Tig grunts, hooking a thumb to the blaster on her belt but not arming herself fully just yet. She returns her attention back to the villa before them. "Glad to know you're still long winded and drunk as ever."
Merek doesn't need to try to look like he's from a Cartel, with his black and silvers armor which is a bit worn in its use. He has on his hip a sword, with blaster upon the other, while he walks to follow Hopp from the ship, "Right, will keep that in mind in that case," he offers at the words about the Jaf.
Siha Archer is here. As herself. She's not very good at acting anything other than her self, and so there one has it. She is her and her is she. She had spent the ride nice and quiet, wordlessly checking out those around her through her helmet which allows her to be a creeper while barely turning her head left or right. It's nice. Once they're landing she's unbuckling herself from her seat and rising up, favoring her left leg heavily as she plays twinsies with Tig save for her limping steps and complete lack of curves, sword and blaster to either hip bouncing as she snorts in response to Hopp. NO WORDS. Nope, just let her get off the shuttle and stretch out as she gazes past that pink duracrete ground, already striding forwards to head to where they're going. To the Villa. Not waiting. Limp. Limp. Menace.
Throughout the ride, Brand has more or less been asleep. Slouched down in his chair with his feet far out in front of him and his ankles crossed one over the other, his eyes only open with the movement of the others around him that seemingly wake him from his slumber. Sitting up, the man looked toward the others as they head off down the ramp, the human hefted his jacket and slung it over the simple star pilot armor he had worn on the excursion and trotted down the ramp after the others. Settling into a stride between Tig and Siha, he says in a low voice, "So what are we doing again? Nevermind, I'll follow your lead." Then he is patting his pockets to pull free a cigarette, pluck it between his lips and light the end.
"I would never desire to insult the Holy Jaf," Muri says from under the enfolding shroud of jacket she's busy wrangling her arms into. It's too big and it's uncooperative. Maybe she should just buy better clothes that fit. It does, however, fit comfortably over the blast vest layered beneath. Does it make her look /menacing/ though? Probably not. Cartelly? Maybe? Or like someone's teenage daughter that's bent on being writ outta the will. If there's a gun on Muri, it doesn't show. The metal knuckles DO show - dangling from her belt alongside a number of other inoccuous gadgets. Once she's done dressing up, Netep calmly follows in the others' wake, nice and unhurried like. The pink tarmac underfoot gets a little nose wrinkle of disproval. Pink. One color that somehow hasn't made it into her collection of hair dyes. Yet.
"Hoka cha!" The rodian guard at the entrance to the villa perks up on seeing Hopp and his assistants approaching, pacing over with an amused expression on his long, trumpeted snout. "If heet not Hoop Noorim," he minces to the tall, gangly scientist. "And heem crew ob miscreants! You are having the beeg bills showing up here," the rodian tells the others with a smile, letting out a nasally giggle. "Cheepa heez waiting for you."
"Great, that's just- that's just great news, there, thanks for- thanks for skeeving out my whole gang, there, Vred, you- you've been a big help," Hopp grates, taking another puff of his cig while the rodian guard opens the big sliding metal blast door to let them into the compound, a thoroughly pink affair, thanks to the pink rock that abounds all over the planet being the most ready building material. The house itself is a big, spreading residence that dominates the grounds behind the gate, a paler shade of pink that borders on white, like a delicate peony shade. Guards patrol the area with big ol' guns.
"Ho yeah, Hi would not be trying any ob the funnies, Cheepa give orders we shoot to keel heef you do," Vred, the guard, lets them know.
There is a small shrug of Tig's shoulder pauldrons at Brand's question. "KrififIknow," comes the seeming one-word reply. She stops, just to the side and back of Hopp, staring down the Rodian. The visor stays on the Rodian as they march in, only turning away once the head position becomes uncomfortable. Ultimate stare down. "I didn't realize we were coming to visit friends of yours," Tig comments lightly, making sure to glance around and make note of how many big guns are around and their patrol paths.
Merek looks over to the man that tells them that they have orders to shoot if they act up, and shifts all his attention then back to the front as he seems to be focused upon what they came for. With his hand he brushes at his scruffy soft beard a bit, "Seswenna sector," is what he notes, as he takes a pen to some holopaper so that he can write some details about the planet as a researcher would as he walks with the others.
Has Siha met Brand before? After he asks his question she'll turn her head to eyeball the man who is the same height as she, which means she doesn't have to tilt her head back to eye him. He also gets no answer from her, maybe due to the fact he said nevermind, or because she's a complete and utter ass. It's hard to tell. And likely doesn't matter, the call out from the Rodian capturing her attention, the Mandalorian female coming to a slow stop, leaning in on her left hip, hand on her sword hilt, the other on her blaster, mainly out of comfort rather than intending to slice and dice anyone. As the gate creeeeeaaaaks and squeaks its way open, far too slowly for Siha's liking, she'll sniff once, then twice, and then finally a third deep inhale that sounds a little clogged until it doesn't. Ahh. Nice and clear.
She doesn't bother staring any down, they wouldn't be able to tell she was from behind that t-visor, but instead, once again, she doesn't wait, striding forward as the gate is halfway open, not taking the time to enjoy the beautifully pink vision that greets her. Instead she strides for the main house, limping heavily, weapons bouncing, off forwards. Breaking out in front of the group because she ain't got time for pleasantries.
Brand watches the goings on of both his compatriots in this endeavor, and the actions of the Rodian guard that they have just met. He inhales deeply, the tip of his cigarette glowing a fierce orange before he exhales a cloud of smoke and nods his head toward Tig's assessment. "Right. Seems like these people are old friends of yours," he seconds Tig. "Wonder what kind of welcome we can expect given your big bills for even showing up?"
Netep reaches up to scratch an earlobe where one of the feathery fluffs in her hair is tickling something fierce, stare fixed on Vred for the duration of his initial greeting, then eyes go to roam about the rosy architecture. "Heh," her shoulders put forth a little extra effort into their shrug under that jacket. "No worries there," she 'whispers' loudly aside to the Rodian as they pass through the door. "Nuthin funny /'bout/ this old nut..." and then scurries a few steps to come up on Brand's heels. And past them, a little, sorta slipping her way as able into more or less the center of the taller/armored bodies. "I'm sure Cheepa gonna have nothing but the best that hospitality can offer!" She chirps a little too buoyantly. "Right, Hopp? Just the warmest welcome." Which is precisely why she's trying to surround herself by an armored fence.
"Yeah, well... I wouldn't exactly call 'em friends there, Tig, okay, I- more like uh, frenemies," Hopp explains as they walk across the lawn towards the big house, the other guards that are patrolling and staring them down also rodian. "Ol' Cheepa here, he- he- he sorta owes me, on account of, you know, I saved his life and that kind of crap, but- and this isn't exactly fair, in my opinion, because if I hadn't done it he'd have died, okay," there's the disclaimer for what's coming next, "and maybe he would have preferred death to having his testicles removed, but- but- but nobody said that /at the time/, alright," the old coot exclaims, spreading bony hands wide as he expresses his disbelief with the situation, pushing a button to open the door to the main house since apparently there's no doorman here to greet them like Vred at the front gate.
Hopp glances between the two Mandalorian women and the random men he's never met before and didn't bother to vett. "I know what you're thinking, we're- we're going deep into this place where it definitely seems like I'm not well-loved and there's a history of bad blood between me and the guy in charge of a whole gang of armed guards and likely a- a whole crew of hooligans on swoops and skiffs just waiting to come hoarding out of some pink hole in the ground like- like- like some kind of x-rated alien fetish film, I- we were testing hormonal response to extreme stimuli, don't judge me- and- and... What was I saying."
A deep puff of cig as he gathers his thoughts. "And yeah, that's exactly what's happening here, but it'll be worth it for this Gannarian narco-spice, okay, and if it was easy I wouldn't be paying any of YOU. So... let's do this."
The door opens up immediately into a wide, soaring chamber, a massive lobby with impressive pillars holding the ceiling aloft, crystal chandaliers hanging down from above, sparkling in the light, a long carpet reaching across the floor from the door to throw up against the feet of a large marble chair on which is sat a fat, unamused rodian. "Cheepaaaa!" Hopp calls with the cajoling air of someone who knows that he is not a welcome sight. "It's uh, good to see you /alive/ and /not dead yet./"
"Hoda pa, Hoop Noorim. No good to see /you/. Who dese frends you bringing wid you, the deal did not geeve you permesan not to come alone. Speek, frends, speek to Cheepa."
"Oh, wow. I am very shocked and surprised by you, Hopp," Tig Follox says in a very fake mystified voice. It isn't evident if she has drown Hopp out or not, thankfully the visor keeps her emotions better hidden than any sabacc player. Her hand stays firmly on her blaster where it resides in her belt and she makes a little space for Netep to use her as a shield. There is the briefest glance to the shorter female. If there is a look of encouragement or a smile to the other woman, it's lost behind said helmet. Cheepa gets a look down and she very firmly does not speak to him or anyone else.
"Somehow... Even though I don't know you, I'm not amazed it turned into this," Merek admits then to Hopp with a sigh as he listens to the explanation of the relationship. When Cheepa speaks about it all, he just crosses his arms a bit while he waits to listen to the conversation that transpires between them all.
Siha Archer sighs, heavily, looking between everyone as no one responds to the guy. She will clear her throat, speaking clearly through her helmet, a lightly accented voice lilting into the air, "I am Siha Archer, of Clan Tal, and Hopp is no friend of mine." Said darkly, another sniff echoing out from within the helmet, "But he pays." Hands settle on her hips again, back arching a little, a series of crackling pops sounding loudly, like crinkling cellophane, body then moving side to side as she turns to look at her companions, staring them down behind the t-visor, "Well? Don't be bloody well rude, introduce your bloody selves so we can continue on and he won't get bloody huffy you're in his damned house and ignoring him outright." A hissed 'bloody animals' rousing from within the helmet in a whisper as she turns back to look at Cheepa, "I didn't think Rodians could get fat." An off-hand comment to Cheepa, "Business must be good."
"You saved his life by cutting his balls off?" Brand says bluntly, blinking in surprise at the concept. "Well... isn't that a kick in the nuts... no pun intended," he says in a dazed sort of tone as he reaches down and adjusts himself unconsciously. Brand gives a side eye toward Muri as she steps forward and into the middle of the group, as if she would dare use him as a human shield. The man slipping sideways as well to place himself between Siha and Merek. Nothing to see here. Looking across the way toward Cheepa, the man speaks up and says, "Name is Brand, Cheepa." Short and sweet.
Testicles removed? Netep's cheeks puff to release a sloooow whoosh of air, brows furrowed with some tiny degree of empathy for whoever this Cheepa is as they parade from courtyard into grand foyer. "Sounds like perfectly legitimate science, Hopp," she mutters and stuffs hands into pockets for a final survey UUUP and around when they come to a halt in front of the mighty Cheepa.
Siha's commentary earns just a tiny lil glare from under green brow before she, too, lifts her voice in answer to their host's query. "Greetings, Cheepa," she bows her head lightly, more like a pronounced nod, and draws a tight-lipped smile over clenched teeth in the wake of the 'fat' remark. "I am Netep, in service to Mr Nooram as 'xeno-cultural' advisor. It's my understanding that he, even under the best of intentions, is apt to bumble and commit accidental transgressions and insult to personages such as your esteemed self, from time to time. In additional to purposeful ones. A fault of human aging, I'm 'fraid. We'd like to ensure that doesn't happen again, for his well being as well as the health of future business relationships. Productive discussions bring happiness to all, whereas erm..." she steps forward a bit to present herself a little more clearly while sizing up the old man who's lured her here with promise of pay, and fixing him with the same kind of /look/ "misunderstanding does not."
Cheepa looks unimpressed and if anything vaguely insulted by the lack of introductions from Merek and Tig. "AN INSULT!" Okay, very insulted. A thick green hand flails for the gavel on the armrest and bangs it down. "INSULT TO INJURY."
"Now Cheepa, they didn't mean anything by it," Hopp jumps in quickly, trying to cover for the faux pas. "They- they're not from around here, and you know kids these days, they- they got no manners, Cheepa, not like- not like you and me, we- we go way back, Cheepa! You and me, Cheepa! I didn't want to take your babymakers but I had to, buddy! I had no choice! It was all to save you, Cheepa!" Two bony fingers are crossed behind his back.
"Violading de deal! INSULT to INJURY! Deal is OFF!" Cheepa cries, pounding the gavel wildly against his armrest.
"Kill them!" both Hopp and Cheepa yell at the same time, while guards begin to pour in from the wings.
Tig Follox 's own gold t-visor tips, taking in Siha with it's blank slate. But it seems interested. Maybe it's the woman's posture. Her head slowly turns back to Cheepa and she barely moves, still sticking close the the unarmored human named Netep as she speaks. Cheepa isn't impressed, though. The Mandalorian breathes in a deep breathe and attempts to fix the situation. "brispgui thyiu scrotch krib stuye oonk scriu esurl klei spup gurd, relfgemn." Stiffly she half bows to the Cheepa. Her tone was, at least, belauding sounding. "ewd scruld suurm rep stuthsliyelp sprepru stri." Tig adds when it appears it's too little and too late. "stitcheng stuthsliyelp scroolch?" she continues to mutter in her native language as she pulls out her blaster but her shot fires off rogue.
"Hopp," Tig snorts unhappily in basic. "You never said shit about manners! I don't kriffin' have those and you know it!"
Merek leans forward a bit as he seems to notice that Cheepa is upset, and shifts one of his hands to the sword upon his hip. When it seems like orders have come from both sides to engage in the fight, he walks forward to one of the mercenaries that are coming in, and unsheathes his weapon with a shift of the hip. The weapon is quite fast in his hands, with crimson splattering upon him right as he draws it into the guard, "Well, I didn't expect this to go well no matter what we said!"
"Be on your best behavior, and don't say anything dumb about the Holy Jaf. Yet, look cartelly .. But ...BEST BEHAVIOR." Siha says with a hard grunt, glancing to Tig and hearing and understanding what she's saying, another hard snort again, "Nothing goes well when people are incapable of following simple direction." A glance to Cheepa at the last of Tigs words and Siha will laugh heartily as her sword is drawn out with a simple snag and swing, "Yeah, I'm not sorry you can't reproduce anymore." AND THEN KASHA-CHKKN. A swinging motion towards one of the guards SLICES HIM ACROSS HIS ABDOMEN. Or her. Is it a her. Siha is an equal opportunity killer, so ..Whatever. Regardless she hits at breast level and SWUNG, right through dem organs and bones, another ...bizzare swing taken at another guard and ..uh ..it ..it does ..nothing but something, but ..nothing with a space in front of it, so like ..a hairsbreath away from slicing off a nose, "I'd run." Said to the dude(tte) through her helmet, the limping woman still good with dem arms.
Brand is still there, standing between Siha and Merek with all of the honor of one who totally doesn't care if things go south and one of his allies gets hit instead of him. So it is that when things really do go south, the man scowls very deeply when Merek AND Siha leap into action, leaving him standing there in the wide open. "Kriffing great!" he curses as he snags his pistol out of the holster at his hip, the weapon taking quick aim at one of the bigger looking goons. He squeezes one shot off at the Rodian's crotch, then the other right for the thing's head, both blaster bolts connecting.
"Koochoo," Netep grumps when it's obvious that big green ain't buyin what they've got to sell. And definitely not in to giving handouts of Gannian spice! She flinches back around Tig's sturdy self the moment that order goes out to KILL and opts to scurry for the nearest pillar, tugging just once at Hopp's sleeve in passing, as if to say 'c'mon!'. "It is against Holy Jaff's wishes to fire upon a fleeing, harmless being, right!?" she yells at Hopp when the air opens up with sound of blaster fire and gut slicing and pain and everything that Muri is /really/ bad at, as if her performance hadn't already been lackluster this trip. One thing she IS good at, presently? Running. It's either a surprising success or bloody miracle that the length of coat doesn't snag up around her legs and she goes tucking up around the curve of pillar while pulling that ugly little Czerka out from depths of her layers to...wait. No delusions has she about her ability to hit a moving/not RIGHT UP ONS kind of target. So a cautious peek goes around to reassess the proximity of mercs.
Hopp, being a bony, tall old man with a bad attitude and questionable decision-making process, does not leap into combat as most of the others do. As soon as he's yelled 'Kill them!" he runs for cover, heading for the opposite pillar to the one Muri selects and hugging up against it, scowling fiercely at anyone and everyone. "All you had to do was introduce yourselves! I- I didn't know that was rocket science, okay, I- I figured you'd at least know to make a NOISE," the old coot grouches from behind the spit of rock.
"Do not let dese monsters leab," Cheepa is trumpeting to his men, reaching into a hidden compartment on the side of his seat to pull out a crazy-looking bladed weapon of some kind that fits around his fist, a frightening array of blades attached to it. Siha's warning falls on deaf ears, as the dudette brandishes her force pike, lashing out at the other woman's helmeted head. Blaster fire echoes around the room- no, that's not an echo, two more of the guards open fire on Brand and Tig.
Merek draws back up from the man he is engaged with, then he comes around to strike once more with the sword upon him. Th weapon doesn't manage to hit them, though it seems that all the blasters fire is not aimed towards him at the moment, besides the occasional one that moves by, as he twirls the hilt of his weapon to heft it up into a defensive posture. He calls back, "How many more do you think he has waiting in the wings?" he calls out askance.
Bonk. "Shavit." Like a whack-a-mole Siha is beaned, her shoulders going up as her neck takes most of the energy, her swing going a bit wacky as a result, the dudette getting in a good head tossing laugh only to, but a moment later, feel a strange pressure in her neck. A frown, hand coming up as a thin red line begins to eke the circumfrence of her neck, force pike holding arm dropping, pike toppling down to the ground as the other hand snaps up to join the other gingerly at her neck. The dudette exhales once, murming something like 'I don't feel good' though it comes out in a bloody foam, a sucking breath taken in as widened eyes look at Siha who stands there, breathing heavily, leaned in on that broken left leg of hers, sword held out straight to her left side, blood kissing the blades edge.
"I told you. To run." A coughing sputter from Dudette and a look of panic before her head drops off her neck, four seconds of awareness going by as that head drops and rolls twice, long hair of the other keeping it from rolling around much more, "I hope enough to drown these floors." Siha growls out, stance readied once more as she pivots on her good foot, and faces 'round to the next few, "Don't let them leave."
Brand is caught off guard by the echo of blaster shots around the room, but the searing pain in his side as that blaster shot scorches through his pilot armor and into his side is enough to draw him back to reality. His off hand comes to clasp tightly to his side, holding against the bleeding wound even as he raises his blaster up to fire on one of the other larger looking goons. Two shots fire off, the first missing while the second connects. as Brand begins to back, seeking out some sort of cover.
Force pikes! Scary fist blades! Muri's eyes grow wider all the while and she tracks Tig's progress across the floor, perhaps also contemplating the exit. How many doors to disable to get out? Two? And how many guards in the courtyard...she looks down to her gun and tries to recall the last time she used and/or reloaded it. Does it even work? Time to find out! When one of the goons is busy firing on Brand, she takes her aim at him/her and pops off a single round. Did it hit!? "I suspect quite a few!" she shouts an answer to Merek while cringing away from Siha's gorey handiwork, back to safety of perceived shelter. She shuffles her position around the pillar, trying and keep the sturdy stone between self and inhospitable hosts.
"AIIEEE!" That's Cheepa, the pudgy fellow moving with surprising alacrity as he flings himself at Siha, who's killed the most of his guards. The ferocious-looking blade-fist lashes out, humming faintly like there's some kind of vibro-tech going on there. He's kind of terrifying like this, shouting wordless noise and wielding his bizarre weapon.
Hopp seizes the opportunity to charge out from behind his pillar to duck behind the chair, gnarly old fingers skimming over it looking for buttons, for more secret controls. "Muri! Muri, come help me look on this thing!" he growls to her, waving at Tig too. "Both of you. There's got to be a way out of here, alright, I- we gotta find it! And get that narco spice! I'm not leaving without it!"
Thanks to Siha's murder-spree, Tig finds a healthy splatter of blood coating her visor. "Sun'va!" the Mando woman snaps as she finally is forced to remove the helmet or risk not being able to see at all. "Forget your damn spice, old man!" she growls but even as the words leave her lips she knows it's a lost cause. She fires at pretty much nothing as she struggles to mag her helmet to her belt in order to not lose it. "Siha! You need help getting out of here?" The murder machine probably doesn't. She can borrow one of the many legs of her slain enemies.
Merek strikes at a mercenary, though the blast from the weapon makes him dodge and his weapon cleaves through the air. With that, he shifts up so he can begin to walk back to the others, as well as the exit that they are looking for while he does.
OH CHEEPA. His shrill scream distracts Siha long enough for him to stab her in her abdoment, on the right side, with his vibro-whatever, the woman snapping her teeth together with a hard grund as she straightens up best she can, one of Cheepa's other men making to move on the girls running away, trying to snake by her to do so even as Cheepa's fist-whatever draws back.
Siha immediately scoops her Katana in front of her between Cheepa and herself, blade swinging back out in a swoop to cull first the man by his thigh, and as he drops, to draw it back, palm turning up with grip held tight, to claim his head as well, all while staring at Cheepa with that t-visored dead gaze of hers, "//Bic ni skana'din//." PLOP. There goes his other guards head, SLUMP, and then his body forwards into that pink duracreet or whatever the stupid floor is, Siha isn't paying it much mind, "Burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya Tig. Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni." A smile beneath her helm, Siha drawing in a deep breath, "Let's dance, Cheepa, you gorgeous son of a bitch."
There is a growl from Brand as the goon he had been working on is mowed down by Siha and her sword. His body pivots, trying to present the smallest target possibly as he levels his weapon at the instigator of all of this... HOPP. Just kidding! The fat, nutless Rodian is who draws the man's ill intent, and it is two shots fired off his way. The first misses, but the second connects with a fairly solid hit.
Muri's yellow stare peeps out from the other side once Cheepa goes launching at Siha, thereby vacating the throne and Hopp's spindly figure's pouncing at the opportunity left behind. Opportunity for ESCAPE! Both literally and figuratively, if they can nab that stash. Hopp doesn't need to tell Muri twice. "I--" Netep jerks her head back just as fast as it'd poked out, a blaster bolt with her name on it slamming into the pillar instead. "--yeah jus-just wait one...." When a second round fails to follow, she takes this to be a sign that the shooter is either dead or preoccupied and so she RUNS!
"Hopp!" Muri skids to a halt more or less on her hip, scrabbling around to join the nutty professor behind the chair for a beat and catch her breath. "Hopp, there was never any intention of persuading Cheepa, was there. We're just here as meat shields, while YOU.." her hands also resume being useful, Czerka tucked up under an arm while she shoves a pair of scratched up lenses on her face to put things into focus as she gropes them. "get your..." One such detail of interest under Netep's scrutiny is a magnificently detailed carving of a ghest coiled up around an assumed clutch of eggs at the base of the chair's back. "Lovely," she admires genuinely as her thumb strays from its gentle caress over the piece to jab each of the eggs. One of them inverts. "Fix." Alarmingly near to their feet, the floor gives a little shudder and shift. Muri stares down the opening hatch. "Age before beauty?" she offers him the honor of plunging into the unknown.
"Yeah, yeah, kid, don't get your pants in a knot, and if your head gets any bigger it won't fit down the hatch," Hopp grouches at Muri, positioning himself to descend into the secret escape passage and giving his rump a preparatory wiggle before doing so. This gives one of the rodian guards the opportunity to pop a shot right into his bony arse, and with a bark of alarm and pain, the old fart goes tumbling out of sight.
Leaving the others in the room with Cheepa and his last, utterly, shockingly loyal man. "ACKPTH!" Cheepa spits as he's shot by Brand, having expected Siha to be the one attacking him, with his one-track mind. Siha is saying... something to him, but the portly criminal is too busy flinging himself at his attacker with a wild swing of the strange weapon he carries.
"Yeah," Tig Follox wheezes at Siha as she tries to rake blood that dribbles down her side away. Her blaster aims at Cheepa who flails out of the way and she snarls with frustration, turning to asses Hopp's situation... just as Hopp flushes himself down a damn escape hatch. "You black hole sucking monster," she spits and makes for the hole. "Siha! Other guy! And you! C'mon. They've gone through some secret... tunnel thing."
Merek moves back to retreat with the others while he slashes at the mercenary in his defensive manner while he does. The Knight twirls the weapon as he tries his best to cover some of the others while they move to escape, though he does reach to pick up a few things, as well as a few samples from a corpse as he does so as well while the others come in at the foes as well.
Siha Archer turns her head just in time to witness Merek missing his stabbing shot, only to turn her gaze back to see Cheepa attacking Brand with that wild swinging bizarre weapon, one she has eyes for. Blood spills from her side in a similar manner to Tigs own wound, Siha calling out, "TIG. GO. We're cleaning up here and we will follow. Oya!" Then Siha is facing off against Cheepa, calling out loudly, "CHEEPA." SKRRRRRT. She drives her blade in front behind as the Fat Rodian attacks at Brand wildly, driving the katana into the small of his back and swerving it upwards through his spine and innards, the blade getting stuck in along his sternum at the front. A hiss, Siha lamely raising a knee up to kick him forwards and try to shake him off her blade, woman trying to swing him while he's on it, "Pirunir sur'haaise, ori'jagyc-" Spat as she grunts, forced to let his body fall forwards so she can get a foot on his arse to yank out the blade, "Okay ...I think ..I think we're good here, what tunnel?" Asked of those who remain with her, Siha's armor spattered in blood, including her own on her lower right thigh, a deep thrum humming in her brain hole from the earlier hit she took to the helmet. She staggers a little, moving off in the last direction she heard Tigs voice come from.
Brand hears the call for the team's move to the escape hatch, cursing at the thought that the others have already gone ahead of him. "That old, son of a bit-" Brand is cursing as he watches Siha take down Cheepa, leaving Brand to execute the last remaining guard. He turns to look toward the indicated escape hatch, then trots on after the others.
If there weren't still armed thugs bent on exterminating Nooram-and-friends, Muri might not have succeeded in quelling the surge of surprised laughter that yelps out at the sight of Hopp being blasted a new hole. Present circumstances being as they are, there's not time to revel in the karma. "Hey, let's go!" she prairie-dogs from behind the marble chair at those still standing in this hall of slaughter. "New exit!" Only to find some of the fight-savvy folk already charging her way and Cheepa toppling face-first onto the floor! Muri stuffs her pistol back into a semi-secure spot and says a quick prayer under breath. A single bark of "MOVE!" into the hole is the only warning the old man gets before she tucks and rolls into the hatch, body curled up in anticipation of landing on his pile of bones.
Hopp's grizzled head pops up from the escape hatch, frizzy gray hair sticking off his pate like wisps of smoke, just in time to see Merek totally fail to take out anymore guards while Siha and Brand mow them down instead. "Rest in pieces, Cheepa, you- what's that kid doing?" A bony finger points at Merek. "Are you taking body parts off these people? You kriffin' weirdo, we're- this is a spice collection job, not an organ snatching! I'll remember your name for that one, though," the old coot promises, looking around at the others then, a head sticking out of the floor. "Come on, this is- it's a way out, and we got lucky, alright, the ball-less bastard was keeping the narco-spice down here too. I couldn't have planned it this well if I tried, but I'm going to need a volunteer to rub a bacta patch on my heiny in the shuttle, or- or none of you get paid."
The escape hatch works exactly as intended, and another ingredient is secured in the quest for the Perfect High. Who applied the bacta patch? IT IS A GREAT MYSTERY.
