Public Areas - Wet Deck and Hangar Scramble

Calok continued to scan the area as the battles intensified around him. Surprisingly he managed to not catch much attention from his perch. A good thing to him as he still didn't know who to start shooting at, and at this point was considering throwing charges anywhere he saw movement. Knocking a few innocents wouldn't be the worst he had done.

Suddenly a bolt struck the wing of his ship just behind where he had taken his stance. He drop to a knee, noticing he was now being engaged by a few pirate types.

"AH, so you're who I need to shoot at."

He drew up his STW-48. Shots landing center mass; making quick work of two of them causing a third to turn and run. A fools move. Calok took another shot, striking the fleeing pirate in the spine. The shot dropped him but was only paralyzed. Calok made a follow up shot at the base of his skull to fully neutralize the threat though at this point his position was compromised.

A burst from his jetpack got him at ground level just in front of the loading ramp of his ship. It was at this point Calok noticed red sabers in the distance. He paused; lowering his blaster for a moment. This complicated things... he wouldn't normally have an issue knocking out a few of sith, but unfortunate for him, it's his contract with one that got him stuck here. He sighed and mumbled to himself.

"this just keeps getting better all the time."

Until he knew for sure who these people were, he stood down from actively engaging and maintained a defensive posture. Continuing to pick off pirates that got a little to close to his bubble for comfort.... hoping at some point they'd get the idea that they were royally screwed and leave so he could get back to repairing his ship... and maybe a drink.

Most of the non-combatants were cleared away and Lynris eyed her surroundings in case she had to provide cover-fire for those still fleeing but the alarms and Kaine's message had appeared to be enough. Over the commlink she had heard Duraanir. Potential force-users. She groaned under her breath. She had never truly faced a force-user in battle. She would much prefer keep it that way as they seemed more trouble than their worth.

Lynris took in a deep breath just as the sounds of battle kicked off around her. She heard the ignition of lightsabers, blaster weapons, a rogue stun grenade, and Duraanir making quick work of those near him. Her amber eyes looked down her sights as the enemy filed in and she made quick work of those coming in. It was easy when they tunneled in.

Her sights turned to those fighting. There was so much happening at once. A wild man with a ball and chain, Kaine who had seemingly taken lightning with ease, Duraanir beheading a man. All three of them seem engaged with force-users. Lynris took aim at the force-user currently attacking Duraanir. She shot once but the man blocked it with his saber. And again.

Lynris was about to take another shot, hoping at least her few shots gave Duraanir opening, but blaster fire suddenly whizzed past her helmet. Haar'chak! Another pinged off her shoulder armor and even more followed. Her position was compromised. She really wished she had a jetpack about now.

From her position she could see Kaine grabbed by a droid. Lynris really needed to get down now. Looking down her rifle, she cursed, there was a small shot she could hit the droids power generator. Though she wasn't sure her rounds would be enough. Lyn let off two shots, hitting true and hoping it was enough. She wasn't able to see what happened as blaster fire slammed into an unarmored part of her arm.

That was enough for her, Lynris crouched and leapt down, drawing her blaster pistol and stun baton. Pain shot through her left arm but the best she could do was grimace through it.

Surprising no one, the force users and their lackeys refused to listen to her admittedly aggressive suggestion. On the contrary, they ducked behind the cantina furniture nearest at hand and fought back. She growled again as one of the force users started force choking one of her helpers; meanwhile, the other kept her and the bartender occupied by reflecting their baster shots right back at them with their lightsaber.

“We’ve gotta help those two,” the bartender hissed at her between shots.

“As soon as this dar’jetii gives us an opening, vod!” she snapped back.

The bartender only grunted at her.

Then, suddenly, Righty was ripped out of her hand, followed shortly by Lefty, and she dropped into a defensive crouch behind the counter. She was deeply annoyed by now at the fact that she’d left half her weapons aboard the Kara’yaim. Even though he was long dead, she felt the ghost of her buir chastising her stupidity. With any luck, she’d make it out of this to glue the holsters for her kanabo and bowcaster to her back.

Silence fell abruptly, and she blinked back into focus to realize that the bartender’s weapons had been similarly ripped away from him. He was crouched beside her now, hunched over and grimacing in pain over his right shoulder. Apparently, one of the dar’jetii’s reflected shots landed.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” sang one of the force users.

Uncharacteristically, she had no snarky rejoinder. Instead, she was intent on trying to make the bartender more comfortable, as quietly as she could. She had his pauldron off and was inspecting the wound. Catching the bartender’s eyes, she carefully mouthed, Only superficial. Lucky.

He grimaced at her, but nodded.

Then, the counter exploded into splinters between them, as one of the dar’jetii's lightsabers sliced right through. She threw herself backwards, and then found herself slowly lifting into the air as her air was all of the sudden cut off.

Duraanir had been kept on the defensive as they Dark sider swatted at the beskar shield with his lightsaber, laughing as he felt he had the upper hand. When the two bolts came careening for him from Lynris' rifle, Duraanir had the opening he needed. He swung his shield arm, swatting the man's lightsaber away, before bringing the blade of his kad-ra'gr up through the mans jaw and into the depths of his head. He drew it back, and the former Force user crumpled into a pile on the deck. Just as he returned his attention to the rest of the battle, the lights came on, illuminating the remaining combatants.

This illumination of enemy assets only served to disorient the attackers further, making the mop up in Duraanir's sector nice and easy. Another mandalorian bearing the sigil of Clan Skirata would come running up to Durranir's side Sir, a few slipped by the other defenders and are scattered throughout the station. We have a few minor wounded, but no one has eye's on Eshana.

"Osi'kyr. Alright, search and destroy. No one leaves. I'll go find Eshana."

Duraanir quickly began to weave through people on the scramble, the occasional blaster bolt pinging off his heavier armor. He didn't bother with the rabble, as many were being quickly overwhelmed by the defenders. As he drew closer to the Mad Mythosaur, he was greeted by the sight of a stunned Besalisk standing over Kaine who looked to have gotten knocked on his shebs. Duraanir would unlock his shield from his arm, grabbing the sides as he charged forward again. As he closed the distance, he leapt over Kaine, smashing into the Besalisk and taking the four armed alien to the ground under him. Still stunned by the kick to his bits, and the following beskar freight train, the Besalisk had little time to react. Duraanir brought his shield high, before slamming the rim of it down on the Besalisk's head. The crunch of bone couldn't be heard over the combat around them, but it's limbs fell limp, blood spreading out from the shattered remains of it's skull.

He stood and turned to Kaine, blood spattered across the front of his unpainted armor, and dripping from the shield that he was locking back on to his left arm. "I'm looking for my medic, try not to die before I find her, eh? With a swift flick of his foot, he would slide Kaine's hand cannon back to him before taking off once again. He would round towards the Mad Mythosaur, catching a glimpse of Eshana and the dar'jetii that had grasped her. As he got to the door, he hefted his weapon and called out.

"Keep away from my medic!"

The dar'jetii turned as he heard Duraanir, as he loosed his sword-spear. it was an odd weapon for anyone to carry, but no one ever expected a thrown weapon like that. It struck true, piercing the man's shoulder and sending him tumbling to the ground, releasing Eshana. Duraanir had not seen the other within the bar, and caught a torrent of lightning for his efforts. Duraanir dropped to his knee's, his armor was not insulated to withstand Force lightning, and pain wracked the warrior.

"What sort of savage still uses a spear and shield? You mandalorians certainly aren't that bright."

"Probably...killed more men with it...then you have with...your glowly, metal massage wand."

As the dar'jetii and his goons closed in on Durranir, a small pod flipped up over his left shoulder. The air filled with with shrill screeching as the pod fired a salvo of whistling birds. The dar'jetii was able to use the Force to redirect the one's coming for him, but most of his goons had not been so lucky. bodies now littered the bar as the dar'jetii bore down on Duraanir. "Outside, now!" His words were directed to Eshana and her injured friend as he put himself between the dar'jetii and the door. Without his kad-ra'gr, he wasn't sure how this fight was going to go for him, but he could buy them time to get out and get help at least.

The besalisk was still standing and groaning, and it was a horrible, horrible sound.

Kaine heard 'You're welcome' and the fellow was put out of his misery as the twin impacts of Ashrah's 5 pound beskar ball of nope and Duraanir Skirata 's finishing shieldbash caved in his skull and dropped him, now mercifully silent, to the ground.

The dead Cybermerc's blood splattered across Kaine, who hardly noticed, with the Bacta helping to staunch his wound, he was already coated in his own blood.

Kaine's bacta patches had a mild stim in them, and he was feeling the effects, enough to get back on his feet. A sensible being would have been seeking a medic, but Kaine could hold on for a while now. He was making more work for the medics, but that was their hard boo hoo as he saw it.

Go get em, vod. Kaine said to Duraanir, taking the heavy pistol back.

The Australis Alor put away his nicely returned hand cannon and replaced it with his Flechette pistol. With his injuries, melee and heavy weapons were out, but he could aim and shoot just fine with his trustiest weapon; a customized FWG-5.

Ashrah had finished off his own opponent by now. Duraanir was helping Eshana. Ashrah looked like he'd slowed down too over the years, which made sense, neither of them were in their spry youth any longer.

Duraanir was engaging one of the few remaining attackers that hadn't gotten dead or had fled. Explosions from the hangar and the direction of the attackers' vessels told Kaine the Mando in that area had been doing Kad's good work.

Quickly, though not as nimbly as an uninjured younger version of himself would have, Kaine got to Ashrah's position. Any goons that presented themselves got a flechette round, and didn't pass go or collect their 200 credits.

Kaine's beloved FWG-5 pistol was light, and its whizz-like report whisper quiet; which belied its savage nature. The guided munitions exploded into a target cone of high speed fragments a meter across, well capable of piercing stormtrooper armor-grade. Bad news for anyone. Heavy blaster firepower in the palm of your hand.

Looks like you got this one. Kaine nodded to the corpse Ashrah had made, and then towards the hum and buzz of the one remaining lightsaber.

Neither Kaine or Ashrah would intervene for Duraanir if the younger vod did not ask for assistance, but they would both watch, and assess his technique against the dar'jetii trash. They'd also prevent others from interfering, such as the goons Kaine was popping, not that many were left.

Any of the goons that preceded into the station would not survive long. Clan Australis could have flooded the hangar deck with five times their number inside two minutes; but hadn't been ordered to lock the area down. They knew The Rock's locals could handle the current situation.

Trying to penetrate the station and cause real damage, however, would not be tolerated. Whether by a vibroblade they never saw coming, or a swift bolt to the cranium, the enemy landing parties were zeroed and eliminated.

Kaine looked over in Calok Warr 's direction, and saw the lifescan was intact. He would be alright after his flight into those containers. Kaine waved the vod over to watch the end of the fight between Duraanir and the Dark Jedi. Eshana Farr he could see with the Mad Mythosaur's bartender, who looked wounded.

You'll live!

Kaine called to the bartender and Eshana both in a jovial tone he had to force through the grimace he felt from his side. That hurt. Old! His body screamed at him. Kaine told it to shut up, pressed the bacta patch in one-handed, and watched the fight.

Automatically, her hands went to her throat, but she knew she would find no hands strangling her. She slid her eyes over to the second force user and found her assailant. An ugly sneer was stretched across his unnaturally pallid lips as he faced her with his hand outstretched, thumb and forefinger lightly pinching the air between them while her lungs started burning.

She bared her pointed teeth at him as the stinking rot of his aura crashed against the heightened sensitivity of her montrals like some putrid wave. She knew this feeling. She’d felt it every time she and her buir had fought against this ilk of force user. She’d felt it the day her buir was finally murdered by one. And she raged against it even though her vision started turning red… then black...

Then, she was suddenly falling. And gasping. And coughing as air returned to her starving lungs.

Somewhere over her own racing blood, she heard Duraanir Skirata .



Pushing herself into a sitting position, she saw that the dar’jetii was focused on the younger Skirata. A mistake, she thought with an inward leer.

Sure, what she considered a commanding officer had given her a direct order to leave, to get outside to safety. Sure, she had neither of the two blaster pistols she’d arrived with. Sure, she’d been saved in the very nick of time from being killed via strangulation.

But, on the other hand, she wanted blood, and she wasn’t about to let her savior, the son of the man who had finally given her a purpose, die in her place.

So, she stood up slowly and quietly, forcing her ragged breathing to return to normal. Then, wisely or not, she launched herself at the dar’jetii's back.

Reason lost to feral instinct, her teeth found his neck and she bit down. Hard. The force user screamed as he collapsed under her unexpected weight, and she only laughed through her mouth full of blood. She tore her head away then, leaving a weeping hole in the man’s neck. And she spat out her mouthful with a snarl, not surprised to find that the meat was as tainted as the man’s aura. Voice still rough as it scraped through her abused throat, she growled at the man underneath her, “This is how you strangle your prey, witch.” And she wrapped her hands around his throat and squeezed, partially damming the blood that shot out of him in a throbbing staccato.

It didn’t matter that this was not the one that had attacked her, she continued to squeeze until the man shuddered into immobility underneath her. She kept on squeezing as the man’s last breath rattled out of him. She kept on squeezing until the wet pulse of his lifeblood slowed and ceased.

Then, she rose.

A pained and horrified gasp made her turn to see the other force user, the one that almost succeeded in strangling her, staring at her as though she was a monster. His shoulder was pinned to the wall behind him with Duraaniir’s spear.

She spent a few seconds locating her guns, content to leave the man pinned like the insect he was. Then, robotically, she used Lefty to kill him before recovering Duraaniir’s spear.

Finally, she could breathe normally.

In silence, she went to Duraaniir’s side, and helped him get to his feet. The bartender anticipated her needs, and rushed to push a couple of tables together into an impromptu medical bed. “Thank you,” she rasped at him, as she encouraged Duraaniir to sit and take rest.

“And thank you, Skirata,” she continued. “These corpses interrupted my turning this place into a triage zone. I am in your debt.” She did not say that he had saved her from an ignoble death, the words were unnecessary.

Sinistra had followed some lights towards the Wet Deck, still trying to piece together where the hell she was in the first place. When the doors parted to reveal the fighting, Sinistra had to take a moment to figure out who was who. There were Mandos everywhere, fighting off what looked like troopers and some red saber wielding Force users. Sinistra must have looked like an easy target, trying not to hurl with long strands of hair stuck to her face and spitting them out of her mouth, barefoot in what looked like loungewear. However she was holding a saber hilt and as someone tried to throw a punch at her, she ducked back, swooned, and Force pushed at him, which didn't quite squarely land on her adversary except for his legs and he went sliding face first backwards from her.

Oh this was so not good.

Bending over, she dry heaved then swallowed hard, and squinted for someone to make pay for this whole mess.

Turning to look at the man she pushed trying to get to his feet, she lifted him with the Force and and slammed him against the wall before she crossed the distance and punched him square in the throat with her right hand weighted with the saber hilt.

He crumpled in a heap, gasping for air through his ruined windpipe, but she flicked the blade to life and back off again through the top of his head.

She pressed further into the fray, coming up behind a hand to hand fight between a Mando and one of the other trooper looking goons. Thumbing the blade on again, she cut the invader's leg off from behind, and he fell in a heap but she kept going, leaving a trail of blood and limbs in her wake.

"What's it take to get some Bogan damned peace and quiet?" She spoke to no one in particular as she felt the headache finally begin to abate.