Bal-Savi
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The people do not NEED a protector, they just want someone who can be their guardian.
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Post by Bal-Savi on Aug 24, 2014 21:26:38 GMT -8
*Bal caught the water bladder with ease and slowly drank from it after hearing Kal's words. He did't know Kal didn't like doing this, but he could understand that sometimes, their level is necessary to stoop to. Hopefully in his future, he would never have to do such a thing. He chuckled at Kal'Shor's last sentence, smiling for a moment.
"Under these circumstances, taking out those who threaten us, lethally or non-lethally, takes more priority than an objective to deliver an item or a message. Although I must admit..... I did the job after all."
*Bal took off the Gaffii strapped to his back and spun it in his left hand with ease. He had the Chieftain's attached to his back as if it was his own. He spun it for a few seconds until he pointed one end toward Kal and threw back the water bladder.*
"So when do you want it back?"
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Nartaga
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Sometimes you must pick the gun up to put the gun down.
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Post by Nartaga on Aug 24, 2014 21:54:52 GMT -8
Kal'Shor brought the Gaderffii he had in his hnds up to his goggles, looking it over. It did not have the knotches he had made in his own. He handed the Gaderffii back over to Bal and took his own, nodding his head in approval.
-Kal'Shor- "Even better, then. C'mon. Let's get back to the Enclave."
Kal'Shor looked in the direction of the Enclave, seeing a ship flying up into Orbit from the mountains. Someone was going somewhere, and he had not been invited. A pity.
-Kal'Shor- "When we get back we shall break bread together. Drink some sugar water. It is a tradition of the Dunewalkers."
Kal'Shor seemed to be unaware that Sugar Water did not have the same effect on Outsiders as it did with Tuskens. Nevertheless, Kal'Shor started walking off back towards the Enclave.
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Bal-Savi
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The people do not NEED a protector, they just want someone who can be their guardian.
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Post by Bal-Savi on Sept 4, 2014 15:37:35 GMT -8
*Bal drank more of the 'Sugar Water' as Kal called it. and then handed it back. He was prepared to leave and continue his training. He felt he was more than ready to take that key from Kal's neck, but he needed to find the opportune time. No was not it.
"Well, I'm ready to move out when you are."
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Nartaga
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Post by Nartaga on Sept 9, 2014 14:59:54 GMT -8
Kal'Shor took the water bladder back and tied it to his side and began walking back in the direction of the Enclave. He stayed quiet for a while before finally speaking.
-Kal'Shor- "So what do you think of Tatooine, Bal-savi? Is it everything you hoped it would be and more?"
Kal'Shor chuckled at the joke. He knew many Outsiders could never have the same fondness for his homeworld as Tuskens did. Tatooine was everything to them. Their mother, their home, and sometimes their god in some clans.
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Bal-Savi
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The people do not NEED a protector, they just want someone who can be their guardian.
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Post by Bal-Savi on Sept 20, 2014 12:11:41 GMT -8
*Bal chuckled at the question along with Kal. He stretched his arm and looked up at the sky for a moment before responding.*
"To be honest, I expected things there to be at least one clan like yours. Able to accept, train and acknowledge outsiders such as myself. I'm glad I found your clan before I found the others. I do believe, should I need refuge, I could make a home on this planet, or possibly stay with your clan for a time being. And yes, I'm confident I will succeed in this training. I have not withstood anything more difficult than the challenges you've given me. The Mercs put me on assassination missions which were easy, former Jedi pitting me against my own evil self, and sparring against master martial artists. Its the fact, that Tuskens are so mysterious and that your techniques are somewhat similar, yet unique makes your people the last group I can learn from before I become the person I've seen."
*Bal smiled at this response. He was trying his best to self-reflect, with no care of whether Kal paid attention or not. He just wanted to take a short look back before he knew what would happen. Should another outcome arise though, he would be glad to take it.*
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Nartaga
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Sometimes you must pick the gun up to put the gun down.
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Post by Nartaga on Oct 7, 2014 6:55:53 GMT -8
Kal'Shor nodded his head at Bal as he continued walking.
-Kal'Shor- "You were indeed lucky when you came across the R'Crurak. If you would have been found by one of our rival clans, it likely you would have been impaled upon a pike left to bleed out in the heat of the twin suns."
Kal'Shor raised a finger to point out something in Bal's words.
-Kal'Shor- "Never stop learning, Bal-Savi, whether it is from a people, or your own actions. Life is not a thing to simply say you are done learning from. There is an entire Universe out there. It is not wise to say you can learn nothing more from the people that live in it."
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Bal-Savi
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The people do not NEED a protector, they just want someone who can be their guardian.
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Post by Bal-Savi on Oct 7, 2014 9:30:19 GMT -8
*Bal nodded and smiled genuinely, completely ignoring Kal's response of finding another clan. It was best he didn't think on such things.*
"Well, I don't expect there to be a dull moment in my future. So observing my own actions as well as others might teach me a thing or two. I bet I still have a lot to learn."
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Nartaga
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Post by Nartaga on Oct 15, 2014 19:40:01 GMT -8
Kal'Shor nodded approvingly as Bal-Savi agreed with point.
-Kal'Shor- "Learn as if you were going to live forever, or so the old saying goes. There is always more to learn."
Kal'Shor may be a ruthless warrior on a barren sand world, but he did have some wisdom he could impart that did not involve killing one's enemies in battle. The life of a Dunewalker was not only about fighting, but of understanding of the battlefield, and respect of those you strike down, as well as their beliefs. To kill an enemy for simply not understanding them was too simple. Being able to discern one's enemy and bring to light and understand them was a greater strength in most situations.
-Kal'Shor- "You say you wish to become what you have seen. Who is it that has inspired you to take on such a journey of self improvement, Bal-Savi? Are you gifted with foresight?"
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Bal-Savi
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The people do not NEED a protector, they just want someone who can be their guardian.
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Post by Bal-Savi on Oct 16, 2014 6:18:04 GMT -8
*Bal rubbed the back of his neck and let out a heavy sigh. Lieing to the man who was teaching him didn't seem right, and its not like he could hold the story in his head forever.*
"Five years ago, I fell in love with a girl named Jen Shaen. A person would almost say we were meant to become good friends, and at one point we thought it could go further than that. I went on a job for a mercenary group, small pay and very little risk. When I got back, they had Jen by the throat and threatening to kill her if I didn't give them the payment I received. Before I knew what happened, I was knocked out cold, my credits were gone and Jen was taken from me. I went into a state of a weak poor kid trying to live on the streets. Months later I had a vision... through the Force maybe.... and it showed me, clad in my black outfit back in the camp, with a lightsaber in hand. I saw myself defeat several evils and finally rescue Jen from those bastards. Every now and then I see it again, and that is what keeps me going. Ever since that vision, I've been determined to get stronger and save Jen and destroy the corrupt evil that plagues our galaxy."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2016 16:42:20 GMT -8
A lone shard of motion raced across the flat desolate section of the sands, kicking up billowing dust behind it. A lone figure stands beside the rough dome that extends above the ground as the shard rapidly draws closer. A twined roar of unshielded engines is the first thing to reach the Dome Man. As the shard pulls closer yet, it suddenly whips wide, kicking it's tail out so that it is now flying sideways & on its side toward the Dome Man. At the last possible moment before the shard would fly directly through the dome, it kicks up onto its nose, pointing straight toward the ground, engines still roaring, before slamming back down into was could be called a parked position.
Riding on what looks to be a speeder bike made entirely from leather, is a jawa that is every inch as strange as his ride. Absent are the usual robes & concealing hood. This jawa was decked out in trousers & a button up shirt, both made of heavy cloth. A heavy pair of chaps made from what looked like bantha hide, with the fur still firmly attached, protecting his legs from rocks kicked up from the ground. A heavy leather duster provided similar protection to his upper body. Meanwhile a quartet of bandoleers & utility belts tried their hardest to hide his shirt from view. The cherry on top of this strange sundae was a wide hat that extended out past both of the jawa's shoulders, with a curtain of clinking beads hiding everything above the neck except a pair of glowing yellow eyes.
No words were spoken, there was no need. Both knew why the other was here. Reaching into one after another of the many saddlebags lining the nose of the speeder bike, the jawa unloaded a small pile of bottles full of blue milk. Collecting his pay, the Jawa remounted his speeder bike. A single thought flitted through his head just before he kicked the dart back to full power, aimed at the next customer.
Tsutmigaint deliveries, ain't nobody faster than Mig.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2016 17:19:54 GMT -8
*The reliant roared over the desert sands, its destination was a small abandoned moisture farm used as a drop point for smugglers and pirates. The large freighter touched down just near several buildings in disrepair. Jonas stepped off the boarding ramp onto the hot sands. He cast his gaze from the buildings in from of him to the twin suns setting in the distance. The heat didn't bother him that much, but the cool night air was better then oppressing suns of this planet. Movement from one of the buildings caught his attention. Turning he saw Karr walking swiftly towards him, a large smile graced the Devaronian features.*
"Creel! It's so good to see you my friend, so good in deed!" *Karrs enthusiasm almost seemed forced. As he got closer Jonas saw something in Karrs eyes that his smile hide. Worry, or was it fear? Something was off and Jonas didn't like it.* "So. Do you have it?"
"Have what?" *Jonas's statement was flat and almost caused Karrs smile to faulter. He knew Karr was up to no good, he just wasn't sure what.
"The box. The one you got back from the pirates remember?" *Fear, it was defiantly fear that Jonas heard in the Devoranians voice, but why?*
"Yeah we got that stupid box. Cursed things sitting in the cargo hold." *At that moment Jonas had never wanted to punch anyone more than Shay. He wanted to put his fist right through the younger mans T-shpaed visor. As he turned he caught sight of a dark figure out of the corner of his eyes. He turned and raised his rifle at the figure. They were dressed in all black, with a tattered black cloak hanging loosely over them. Their face was covered in a white mask with solid black eyes. What was worse was the fact that they were holding the box of Sith relics in their arms.* "Put the box down and step away from the ship!" *The others turned to face the intruder with weapons drawn. A sudden chill ran down Jonas's spine, slowly he turned to where Karr stood. Two more of these people were standing beside the Devornian. A pit formed in his stomach as he quickly realized that they were surrounded. Not only that, these beings seemingly appeared from thin air.*
"Sorry Creel. Some people just pay to much to pass by. Now, please don't do anything dumb. Who knows. I might even give you a piece of the share. Once they pay..." *Karr's voice was cut short as a red bladed saber pierced through his back. The Devaronian barely uttered a sound as he hit the sand. The look of pain and fear written across his face. Everything seemed to freeze momentarily before Jak's voice cut through the silence.* "Sith!"
*Blaster fire light up the evening sky as Joans and the two brothers open fired in the Sith. The one carrying the box dropped instantly from having now way to defend himself. The others pulled out their lightsabers and began to bat the blaster bolts harmlessly away.* "Jak! The box! Get it into the ship. We're leaving!"
*Jak grabbed the box from the dead Sith and began to make his way up the ramp. Without warning the box was ripped from his hands as if by a giant. He turned only to have an invisible force knock him clean up the ramp into the ship. Jonas turned to see on of the masked Sith holding the box and quickly making his way to one of the buildings. Bringing his blaster around, he opened fire, only to have his shots be deflected by another Sith. They were pulling back, they had what they wanted. Just then a ball about the size of a human head soared over them and into the ship. The object rolled and stopped not to far from where Jak was slowly getting to his feet. Jonas knew what it was, a bomb. Instinctively he started to run, but there was nowhere to go. The bomb went off, sending out a shock wave of fire and debris. The shock hit Jonas like a tank, sending him into a world of darkness.*
*He slowly opened his eyes to see fire and the wreckage of his ship. Darkness grabbed him momentarily once again. The sound of a roaring engine greeted his ears. Forcing his eyes open he saw a solid black MAAT gunship touch down. He struggled to stay awake. The last thing he remembered was a familiar distant voice calling out to him. Telling him he was going to be okay. Telling him that he was being taken back home to Corellia.*
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Banshee
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Affiliation: Sonrakt Tribe
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Post by Banshee on Feb 14, 2016 15:54:00 GMT -8
Banshee lay prone on top of a rock formation in the Jundland Wastes and brought the scope of the slugthrower rifle up, taking aim on the targets. There were three Tuskens nearly five hundred meters from Banshee's position. Looking them over, Banshee spotted the blue marking of R'Crurak clan Sentries. Banshee watched the Sentries move towards the canyons.
What're you doing so far from your precious Enclave?
Putting a hand up to the side of the mask Banshee wore, Banshee called in the activity to base.
"I've got three targets. Look to be R'Crurak from the markings on their clothing. About seven hundred meters from you....."
Banshee shifted around on the rock formation uncomfortably, waiting for a reply. After a few moments the reply Banshee was waiting for came. Banshee moved a finger over the trigger of the rifle and waited for the shot to line up.
The three Sentries took a break from walking and sat down on the ground, opening up their water bladders and drinking heavily from them.
-R'Crurak Sentry in Tusken- "Why're we scouting the Wastes, anyway? We're way outside of our territory. Are we going to take this area? The Council knows the legends of the Jundland Banshee, right?"
The Sentry never received an answer. He turned his head and coughed up the water that was in his mouth, spilling out from the mouth of his mask and onto the rocky ground. The other two Sentries were dead, the blood slowly flowing from the single bullet holes in their skulls. The Sentry stood up, gaderffii in hand, preparing for battle.
Banshee fired a third shot, the pop of the silenced weapon ringing out and dying in the air. Banshee watched as the third Sentry fell to the sandy ground and then stood up, moving on to another position.
"Targets neutralized. Moving on."
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Post by Kaern Stormrunner on Feb 22, 2016 19:04:16 GMT -8
The darkness chilled him to the bone. He felt as though he was flying, though his mind knew better. What came next was inevitable, yet still no amount of mental preparation could help him brace for it.
It started out as warmth, like the rays of a tropic sun that caressed his face on a vacation, but then it got warmer; much warmer. It no longer felt gentle like sun bathing, but instead, it burned with scorching intensity- as though the sun fell from the heavens and landed on him. Close behind the heat, the blunt for of the second shock wave slammed into him, making his jaw clatter violently- he felt the wave of raw, violent kinetic energy pass through him. Had it not been for the cushioning of the force, bones would snap and shatter- instead, the blunt force drove the wind from his chest, while pushing him further away. Then came the smell of chemically accelerated flames and burning metal, lightly tainted by burning flesh. And finally there was the sound- it was as though fourteen of the shrillest bird calls mated with a hundred monstrous roars- followed by that god awful ringing.
He wasn't flying. No, he was being thrown, by the blast wave of an explosion. His explosion, or rather, one that he created. The ground rushed up to meet him, embracing him with all of the bone breaking power of a hungry rancor. He didn't feel it for long, as his head smacked against something hard.
It was cold again.
And colder still when he finally woke in the dead of night in the desert. The canyons shielded him from the worst of the winds, but if he didn't find shelter, hypothermia would set in. Not that he cared- surely death would feel better than how he felt now. He coughed violently, attempting to sit up, only to fall back to the ground in futility. The taste of blood and smoke filled his throat and nose, threatening to choke him. After a few long minutes, he managed to muster the strength to roll on one side.
He froze. Inches away from him, he found a pair of eyes staring back at him- blood red and black- the eyes of the duros assassin that had been the instrument of this twist of fate. After a few seconds, he noticed that the eyes did not blink, and seemed dull and still. He allowed himself to breathe. The assassin was dead. Looking directly behind the corpse, he saw the wreckage that wrought the death and pain. Shrapnel and fire litered the ground where a land speeder hovered originally.
The assassin was careless enough to bring his getaway vehicle to the scene, and even more foolishly, to have unprotected munitions in plain sight. Those very munitions were the catalyst of the explosion which saved him from certain death. Perhaps it was the assassin's plan to make this look like an accident. They would not have been a variable for most targets, but this one was different. The assassin's target was not a politician or a mere soldier of fortune who pissed someone off; he was a bounty hunter- and a good one at that. Kaern Stormrunner, the man who was laying on the ground, barely breathing, was not just a bounty hunter, but also a force user; that was what spared Kaern from the fate of the corpse across from him.
After a few long moments Kaern attempted to stand again, this time taking his time. He stumbled at first, landing onto his knees. He was wounded, and dehydrated- but he needed to leave, or else the desert would swallow him whole. And that couldn't happen- Kaern wouldn't let it. Not until he found the one that betrayed him, and repaid him in kind.
The thirst for revenge suddenly filled his chest with a fire, hotter than the one from the explosion, yet this fire was a comforting intensity. He used it, urging his body to push back the pain. He rose from his knees, eyes locked on the horizon- Mos Eisley lay in the distance, where they would be hunting him. Going back would be suicide- yet no one expected to see him again. Those who did not know of the attempt on his life would presume that he wasn't foolish enough to return to the scene of the crime, but he would, and he would prove that it was a crime that he did not commit.
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Nartaga
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Sometimes you must pick the gun up to put the gun down.
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Post by Nartaga on Feb 25, 2016 18:50:44 GMT -8
A trio of R'Crurak Sentries walked the perimeter of the camp on the border of their clan's territory, watching the horizon. One of the Sentries stopped walking to take a drink from his water bladder, motioning for his comrades to slow as he did so. The second Sentry shrugged and spoke up.
-Sentry in Tusken- "So how much longer do we have on post?" It's nearly sunsdown."
The third Sentry, this one a Sentry Shaman, smacked the second on the arm. He uncorked his own water bladder and took a drink before speaking.
-Sentry Shaman in Tusken- "Stow the whining. We're here until we get relieved, and leave it at that."
The first Sentry paused as he thought he saw something on the horizon. Lifting his macro binoculars from his side he scanned the area where a dust cloud was moving. The other two Tuskens strained their eyes to see, as they only had the one pair of binoculars between them. The second Sentry was the first to speak again.
-Sentry in Tusken- "What is it? Sandstorm?"
The first Sentry let out a dismissive grunt and looked to the other Sentries for a moment before going back to tracking the dust cloud.
-Sentry in Tusken- "Not sandstorm season yet, and the winds have been quiet all day. This looks like...."
The Sentry suddenly dropped the macro binoculars and began shouting.
-Sentry in Tusken- "Run back to the camp! Tell them to prepare for battle!"
The second Sentry hesitated for a split second, but was soon running off to the small camp to warn the other Tuskens within. The Sentry Shaman on the other hand stayed behind, picking up the binoculars and looking at the dust cloud as it began to turn in the direction of their camp. The Sentry Shaman saw the outlines of several speeders in the cloud, and was puzzled at the sudden arrival.
-Sentry Shaman in Tusken- "Outsiders......Why are they out here?"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Feb 25, 2016 20:25:20 GMT -8
On their original course the caravan of three speeders & nearly a dozen bike would have barely grazed by the outpost. Once they drew closer, however, they suddenly shifted course directly toward the outpost. The entire group completely failed to slow, until the last possible moment when they all dug in hard with swinging, drifting stops that caused each of the craft to kicked up waves of sand.
As the dust began to settle, the caravan was revealed as members of the Sand Lightning jawa clan. Each of the craft marked by a brand or fluttering ribbon with the bent bolt of lightning that was their clan symbol. While most of the jawas immediately began checking over their mounts, with the warboys either watching carefully or keeping a careful eye on the surroundings. Ignoring the other jawas, one with a flapping leather duster & a wide Mariachi hat made his way the short distance to the base of the outpost.
-Mig Howdy, you boys with the R'Crurak?
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Nartaga
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Sometimes you must pick the gun up to put the gun down.
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Post by Nartaga on Feb 25, 2016 23:13:29 GMT -8
The small group of nine Sentries were behind the makeshift wall of rubble that surrounded their small outpost, their Cycler Rifles ready, while the Sentry Shaman had already began chanting to channel his power. They were prepared for anything that could be thrown at them. At least, almost anything. The Sentry Shaman stopped his chants and peeked his head over the wall as the speeders kicked up sand and came to a stop. Beneath his mask there was a look of near disbelief on his face.
-Sentry Shaman in Tusken- "Jawas?"
The Sentries kept their Cycler rifles steadied until the Sentry Shaman made a gesture, and they hesitantly lowered their weapons. The Sentry Shaman called down to the Jawa at the base of their Outpost.
-Sentry Shaman in Tusken- "This is an Outpost of the R'Crurak Clan, yes. What business do you have here, Jawa?"
The Sentries looked to one another in confusion at the appearance of the Jawas.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2016 18:30:00 GMT -8
-Z'har Shucks, not much. Just taking my boys here out for a good long spin. Let some of the warpups pick up a few tricks.
On closer glance, nearly half of those that hadn't been piloting a craft were a good head shorter than the rest, those otherwise indistinguishable in the fully covering western attire.
-Z'har Actually, I had something for your shaman. In thanks for offering to put some of my boys up for the night. They didn't take him up mind, but it is important to repay debts, even if it was only an offer.
Mig waves at a medium sized jug strapped to the back of his bike, nestled safely between the two thrusters. A second glance would make anyone looking realize it is one of the standard water cargo jugs often used by jawas, with close enough to ten galleons of pure water within.
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Nartaga
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Post by Nartaga on Feb 26, 2016 20:18:48 GMT -8
The Sentries looked to the Sentry Shaman as Mig mentioned a Shaman. He looked back at them and shrugged in confusion. He was the only Shaman here, and he had never seen these Jawas before. The Sentry Shaman figured he could get away with getting some free water, but as he was about to answer another voice came out from behind the wall. The Sentry Shaman held his tongue so as not to interrupt.
-???- "I assume you are talking about the Elder?"
The twin set of small metal doors swung open and a female Tusken walked out. She stopped a few feet from Mig and crossed her arms, looking over the gaggle of speeders at her Outpost before finally bringing her gaze back to Mig.
-Tic- "I am Dunewalker Hr'Tic'Kar'Kkr'Krish'Rak'R'Crurak, and this is my outpost. We thank you for the water, but we are not taking it. We get our supplies directly from the Enclave."
The Sentries mumbled under their breath, but were soon silenced by a swift glance from Tic.
-Tic- "We are not an embassy and we do not accept gifts from unknown forces. Do not take this as an insult, it is just how I run my outposts."
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2016 20:28:22 GMT -8
The jawa looked the much taller tusken up & down before taking a moment to light a thick cigar & take a long drag.
-Mig No offense pup, but the water ain't for you anyway.
Several of the other jawas turned to watch for a moment before returning to their maintenance.
-Mig Ya, it probably was your elder. Didn't get his name, only the one called Rik'Ur. Anyway, we are taking the water there.
He let that hang for a moment, to see if she would try to forbid it.
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Nartaga
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Post by Nartaga on Feb 26, 2016 20:44:38 GMT -8
Tic visibly shrugged and tilted her head at the Jawa. To her this Jawa was now little more than an annoyance interrupting her Sentries' tightly scheduled duties. With a huff Tic pointed south-east in the direction of a pair of twin mountain peaks barely visible in the distance.
-Tic- "The Enclave is that way."
Tic brought her arm back down to cross them and shifted her weight slightly onto right leg. She wasn't worried in the slightest about the group of Jawas. If they were a threat to her clan the Enclave could handle them easily. They seemed fine enough to her, if only a bit odd.
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