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Post by Demona Vilebride on Jan 6, 2022 6:19:56 GMT -8
A pyre crackled just outside the captured sand crawler, where the bodies of the slaughtered jawas were heaped into the flames as fuel. Demona warmed her hands on the blaze, watching as members of the crew moved all manner of junk between the mobile fortress and the corvette they had rode in on. She looked into the fire in front of her, staring deep into the dancing orange flames that kept the night at bay, fixing her attention on the cooked skull of one of the dead junk dealers. They probably should have left a few alive. Disgusting vermin though they were, the jawas had a knack for technology and likely would have been able to adapt a lot of the tech they had gathered to the 'Wraith's Wale'. There hadn't been a need to kill them all, but in the heat of the moment all she saw when she looked in those hoods were faces from the past, cruel faces filled with hatred for her and her mother... She blinked her pale eyes, the proximity to the smoke drying them out and making them water. Turning away she approached the crawler and placed a booted foot on the ramp.
It certainly wasn't the most sophisticated piece of technology, but there were few other ground vehicles in operation on Tatooine that were as large as the sand crawler. The thick hull, even rusted as it was, would provide decent protection against most natural predators. She had heard stories about the native sand people occasionally attacking some of the local moisture farmers. Savage sand eaters that rode wooly beasts and fought with sticks and old rifles. She couldn't imagine they would pose much of a risk to the jawas while they were traveling in one of these. Actually, that gave her a good idea...
Demona put two fingers to her mouth and blew, eliciting a whistle that got the attention of several members of the crew. A dozen sets of colourless eyes stared at her.
"I've just figured out how we can make some extra profit on this trip. Continue stripping what tech you can but make sure the sand crawler is still functional. We're going to use it to pay some of the natives a visit. A few of their warriors would make for a decent profit on the slave market."
Fists waves in the air accompanied by jeers and whoops. The crew doubled their pace as they stripped the crawler.
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Post by Demona Vilebride on Jan 7, 2022 5:56:54 GMT -8
The work carried on through the night, but by the time day first broke the crew had completed the task and all useful mechanical parts had been taken and incorporated into the 'Wraith's Wale'. As for the sand crawler, it appeared more or less intact. A dozen of the hordes cruelest and hardest cutthroats now waited inside for Demona. She stood next to the pyre where they had burned the bodies of the jawas, sharpening her axe blade with a rock. She brushed the smooth stone across the edge of the blade, occasionally rewarded with a spark, focused on task before anything else. A scrawny umbaran teenager, Shiv Kataal, approached where she was working and cleared his throat, trying to get her attention.
"Crews ready to go, Captain. You riding aboard the Wraith or..."
"I'll be in the crawler." She said with a smirk, looking up from honing her blade just long enough to show the youth the savage gleam in her pale eyes. "Now get her in the air. You'll need to do the spotting for us, then the fun will begin."
She stood up and hooked her axe through a loop on her belt. Staring at the fire one last time, Demona turned away and strode up the ramp into the sand crawler, working her way to the controls. Once there she took a seat in a chair clearly designed for a smaller being, wedged herself in, and started the mobile junk machine up. There was a rattle as the vehicle came to life and a creak as it lurched forwards, the ramp closing and those aboard now sealed inside.
Next to them, the CR90 corvette 'Wraith's Wale' rose on a cushion of repulsors and took to the air, zooming ahead over the dunes as it began to search for a sizable group of sand people. Captain Vilebride watched it go through a transparent slit near the top of the crawler and pressed forwards on the accelerator, setting the vehicle in motion.
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Viggo Grimborn
Member
Posts: 62
Affiliation: The Thrill of the Hunt and the Sound of Credits
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Viggo Grimborn on May 4, 2023 7:34:31 GMT -8
Blaster fire echoed in rapid succession through the cannon. Brilliant flashes could be made out slightly over the course ridges if any were around to lay eyes upon such a show. Underneath the release of plasma was the faint hum of repulsors, the overlapping hums signifying the presence of at least four if not five or six. But for as cautious as these sounds would be to the passer by, all pale in comparison to the deep, resonating roar that seemed to drown out all other noise. A beast had been agitated upon the rocky canyons of Tatooine, one that all but the most daring of hunters dare confront: a Krayt Dragon. Yet, what was worse than facing down a Krayt was trying to take down two of them.
Crimson blaster fire rained down around the pair of beasts from the six Single Trooper Aerial Platforms. Each one swerving around the tightly packed area as the OOM Battle Droids sought to evade falling debris a swinging tails. Ten had originally been dispatched in order to catch the creatures and four had already fallen. But, the reality was, they were but bait and ultimately disposable. On the ridges over looking the battle were four groups of three men, each prone with stun blaster rifles in hand. Though tough, many could face down a Krayt Dragon and defeat it. After all, Tusken Raiders did so far more regularly than most. If such beings could do so, what was stopping warriors and hunters with greater skill and technology? No, simply killing these beasts for the hides and pearls was not the goal of these particular few. They were hunters and their charge was to bring them back alive. Well, one of them at least. Orders had been passed down to kill them smallest of the group. Its remains would be harvested and the materials would be sold to further supply their endeavors.
Fortune had smiled upon them as the scouting reports from the droids had caught the pair of dragons fighting. The perfect scenario to catch them unawares. And it had worked. Not only that, attached to each craft were crystals infused with the Dark-side. These hunters knew the tricks to facing the canyon beast and the allure of such artifacts was hard to resist. And with them flailing about, attempting the eradicate the pestering gnats that were the droids, the hunters had laid their traps. Stun blasts rained down upon the larger of the pair. It was no easy feat, even with such a barrage, for it was resilient to the end.
As the larger one was distracted, the droids focused their attention on the smaller one, working to grab its attention in just the right spot. If one was patient and knew how to set up against an unsuspecting dragon, this would be an easy task. Yet, in such a frenzy, timing and proper angle were extremely difficult. Yet, it came. A single blaster bolt from a powerful rifle found its mark on the sinus cavity and brought the beast down immediately. With the easier task finish, all that remained was bringing down the second creature.
While the beast began to slow, its showed no signs of going down. But that wasn't a concern. Tranquillizers were fired, piercing the skin beneath its neck. Bit by bit, the beast became encumbered by the sedatives and seemed ready to fall. Jumping on their BARC speeder bikes, they moved down the canyon, ready to bring the beast down the rest of the way with their own hands. Lines with hooks were thrown and wrapped around the creatures body, and with a good few tugs, finally fell to the ground as its legs could no longer bear its strength. Mounting the lines into the rock, the task was done.
With everything secure, the crew went to work at harvesting the dead Krayt as the leader of the group pulled a holodisk from his belt. Activating it, another man appeared in small detail. Short, shagging hair, with a goatee and mustache, what color that could be gathered from it suggested brown if not close to black. Despite being the one to lead the team, it was clear by how he stood that man who received the call was the true leader.
Sir, we have secured the package and have begun harvesting on the second target. Awaiting transport.
A little further away from where the Krayts fell to the skills of the hunters, an Acclamator I-class Assault Ship rested in the clearings. At the foot of the massive boarding ramp, the leader of the hunters stood, at ease with his hands behind his back. His attire looked like that of a primal hunter of ages long past, yet they appeared this way due to being harvested from different creatures they had killed. But all of them were intermingled with armorweave. After all, hunting such savage creatures was a dangerous task. From his place he could hear the echoing of blaster fire. His breath was calm and steady as the faintest of smiles rested upon his features. Before long, silence filled the air and he received a call of his holodevice. Holding it out, the one he had place in charge of the hunt reported in
Sir, we have secured the package and have begun harvesting on the second target. Awaiting transport.
At the news, the smile grew a bit larger.
Well, done Ryker. I was worried it might not enough sport for you, but still managed to deliver. I'm quite certain she'll fetch and excellent price. Transport will be arriving shortly. Prepare for transport. We leave in twenty. The hunter gave a nod before the man hit a button, changing to a holo of a pilot. The beast has been subdued. Make your way to the site and get it loaded quickly.
Deactivating the holdisk, he turned back towards the open ramp and watched as a Y-45 Armored Transport Hauler exited the ship with a large cage underneath. They possessed a couple of these vessel and were modified to carry a variety of cages for the different beast they brought in.
Watching the vessel disappear into the distance, his attention turned to his left as a pair of BARC speeders pulled up. Two girls hopped off and approached, stopping but a few feet from him. the girl on the left, hair long a blonde spoke first.
"We have finished loading the Wraids and the transport is bringing them in now. I think four is a solid number."
The black haired girl next to her crossed her arms as she looked to Astrid.
"Honestly, we could have easily gotten a few more but their didn't seemed to be any others in the area. She then turned to the man. "How did the hunt with the Krayt go?"
Astrid gave a groan of frustration.
"I wish you would let us go with them, dad. I really wanted to prove myself against it."
The man chuckled.
"the dragon is being caged up and brought back even as we speak. I'd say our time here has been rather successful. Well done, to the both of you for your own success."
He then placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"Trust me, my dears. It would the greatest of pleasures to watch you work, however, your training is not yet complete. I cannot, in good conscience, send you to face such a beast just yet. While I prefer not to lose any men, they are expendable. You, my daughters, are not. You'll get your chance. And when you do, it will be a most glorious hunt."
Caressing each of their cheeks, they turned and watched as the transport returned from both hunt zones. The first to arrived carried the four Wraids while the second held the massive dragon. Just behind it were the twelve men arriving on speeders. Aside from Ryker, all headed aboard to get the beast locked in their cages. Time was money and they couldn't afford to waste a moment.
Stepping off his bike, he approach and gave a nod to the girls, before looking to the man.
"I must say, Viggo, despite the smaller size, that second Krayt gave us a solid supply. Should do well at the sale as well."
"Wonderful. I do believe our shadowy crime lords should be quite thrilled at the haul. Let us be underway then."
Turning, Viggo led the way up the ramp. Before long, it was lifted and the ship picked itself up off the ground in a slow motion. Once it was high enough the ship turned upward, making its way into orbit and soon into hyperspace. |
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 722
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on Feb 16, 2024 1:58:17 GMT -8
Now in the sky above the planet a small ship shot towards the surface. Boland shot an eye to the thinning red line on the fuel gauge. The ship was running on fumes so he thought but the big man said nothing. He knew where he was going. As Boland played captain the little girl and the beast became ore restless. Boland kept his hands fast on the dashboard at his knees and his eyes fixed on the landscape ahead of them. Sand. Miles and miles of sand. I seemed to go on endlessly. For miles and miles and miles and miles, just like that irritating Who song. Whoa! Boland snapped out of his inner thought just as the ship, and all of her contents was about to became one with a massive rock. A sharp turn to the left sending all living ass over kettle, and everything not nailed down flew to the right. Grace fell hard screaming -Grace- “Bloody idiot!” Her left knee and right elbow taking the brunt of the fall but nonetheless the movement ended with her forehead smacking off the floor with a sickening thud. The woman lost consciousness briefly but regained herself in a snap. Left hand on her head the right swept low, the woman knowing full well that ‘mistakes’ tended to happen when one brained. Nothing. Sitting up on her knees the woman’s right hand slid under her left. Casually pulling a pistol she did as she had been taught. She thought. And she thought quickly. *I can fly this bloody box…. Just walk over and paste Boland’s brains all over the dashboard. Easy. You can do this Grace. (Even with only one eye and half of a face)* And there went that idea….. Wide eyed Grace looked to here left then her right. Nobody knew a thing. Shrugging the girl stood, stumbled but regaining herself then casually holstering pistol she walked over to the control panel wordlessly taking a seat to the right of Boland. A laughing Maureen abruptly declared -Maureen- “Alright! Boland! Can we do that again!” Brows dropping as she quite subconsciously stripped the inner thoughts of Grace the girl asked -Maureen- “Grace why do you want to pop a cap in Boland’s ass? Well his head….. Why?” The woman swept the question aside saying -Grace- “Passing thought honey, nothing to fixate on.” The woman smiled at a wide-eyed Boland but said nothing. The man quickly returning his attention to the path ahead of them scarcely missed a crew of Tusken Raiders. And who was intending on shooting who, and what would they use to clean up the crime scene, and where oh where would they dispose of the body, and other such pertinent questions went to the wayside. And whilst this tearjerking familial bonding transpired, The hound, hair bristled and mouth agape stood in front the little girl ready to rip Something apart. But nothing materialized. Looking to the child the animal sat. For now
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,428
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Jun 2, 2024 13:05:32 GMT -8
Spear headed skiffs streaked over the dunes as they departed the Sand People Enclave and took to the wilds of Tatooine, racing across the sand while shirtless gammorean boars scooped buckets of tusken chum (essentially a mixture of their organs and blood) out of Sith iron cauldrons strapped to the backs of the repulsor crafts and tossed their contents over the barren wastes, baiting the wilderness as they set a lure for the most illusive creature of the Dune Sea, the weaselly womp rat. Rows of browning blood stretched across the sands for hundreds of kilometers, covering a vast stretch of desert, before the net was inevitably tightened. Black hulled Alpha-class Xg-1 Star Wings launched from the Maw in the middle of the Dune Sea and began patrolling a closing spiral around the target area the gammmoreans were preparing. They targeted sand crawlers, civilian landspeeders, tusken raiders on bantha-back, anything that might disturb the hunting grounds. Hex missiles fired from concussion missile racks on either side of their cockpits rained down toxic death, choking their targets in luminous green clouds of trihexalon gas. Despite the thick armour of the sand crawlers the jawas used, there were still plenty of gaps for the poisonous vapour to sneak in through, filling their lungs with blood to drown them in their own precious fluids. The second generation Nu-Jakes within the cockpits of these merciless killers from above began to mark the target area by glassing strips of the desert with superheated blasts of emerald laser fire, making the ground glow ember orange as night set in.Descended from the same Freedon-class Star Pyramid as the skiffs and star wings were six Ubrikkian Floating Fortress, painted in the Famine Lord's light swallowing black and covered in long impervium spikes welded to their hull, belching long clouds of carcinogenic smog from exhaust stacks protruding from the base of their repulsor platform to wreath the command tower of each mobile base in toxic fog that tinged the windows jaundice yellow. Mutant cultists in ill maintained and poorly repaired protective suits risked the cancerous air by walking the perimeter of the deck outside, armed with net launchers and tranquilizer rifles. The High Priest of the Hunger Cults, Mephisto himself, had promised them a larger share of food proportionate to the amount of womp rats they captured. That was incentive enough for the half starved ghouls that haunted the bowels of the Maw. An umbaran cultist stared through the window of the command tower of the floating fortress 'Blood Tithe', the vision of his pale colourless eyes was hazy from ryll spice smoke burning from a swinging brazier overhead, causing even as boring a post as piloting the repulsor fortress to be somehwat tolerable as the narcotics flooding his system caused each stroke of the steering wheel or flip of a toggle to send a pleasurable jolt throughout his nervous system.Last came the blurrg riders from Ryloth, a full six hundred of them trailing after the floating fortresses on their bipedal reptilian mounts, cloaked in dark marauder silks that concealed their naked flesh that had been altered by alchemy. Calling them blurrg riders was a generous term. Perhaps blurrg bandits would have been more appropriate, as each of these twi'leks had come from the bandit tribes that lived in the desolate Bright Lands and prayed upon those that dwelled in the larger cities. Sometime after Ryloth's fall to the Sith Eternal, the Dark Apothecary had appeared before a gathering of the desert tribes and offered them his mutagenic elixir, the Urcinis-Helix. They had accepted, imbibing of the alchemical broth which changed their flesh at the cellular level as the darkside infused and corrupted into something sinister and lethal. Their skin had paled to an ashen grey, their eyes became red as Ryloth's sands, and their bones elongated in places to pierce their flesh. Fingers became claws, teeth fangs, even the tips of their head tails had formed into poison barbs. It was for these reasons they covered themselves in layers of light absorbing shadow-silks and dark stained reek leather boots and gloves. Only their malefic red eyes were exposed, peering through a thin slit between their turban and veil. They used shock poles and barbed nets to round up womp rats attracted to the tusken chum, capturing the creatures by the thousands, practically raking the desert sands for as many of the vermin as they could get their claws on.Armoured shuttle craft coated in filth and painted in offensive graffitti arrived at regular intervals to transport the caged specimens back to the Maw where they were destined for the Dark Apothecary's laboratories. Dragus was currently researching a number of harmful diseases often carried by rodents, such as Gray Rot, and required numerous specimens to complete his study. This went on for days, with the twi'lek marauders setting up camp in the desert sands of their hunting grounds. Those camps were a raucous affair, involving much drinking and gambling, the occasional knife in the guts, nothing unusual for a bunch of cut throats.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,428
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Jun 30, 2024 9:51:18 GMT -8
Chumming the Dune Sea with the butchered tusken dead proved a fruitful endeavor, as womp rats were drawn from across the sun baked wastes to the rank stench of rotting carrion staining the sands of Tatooine. Thousands of specimens were obtained between the efforts of the blurrg riders and the ghouls manning the mobile fortresses. Each returned to the Maw with cages packed full of rodents, several of which had already been determined to be carriers of gray-rot. Sickly looking Kaminoans with dark circles under their eyes and scars crisscrossing their backs took samples from the gathered vermin, comparing the disease they carried to the examples the forces of Famine already possessed. A constant train of shuttles rocketed back and forth between the star pyramid's position over the desert, filling the lower holds until they were full, occurring over the course of two days until the overseer of the operation was satisfied. And he was. Skrolk Dungclaw, Verminlord of Clan Pestilblight that made its home in the ruins of Dragglevania on toxic Clak'dor VII, shifted in his seat on the bridge of the Maw. A pair of plague rats attended to his current needs, with one continually filling a rusty goblet he was drinking from with a foul steaming viscus fluid, while the other carried a moldering pillow upon which rested the Verminlord's ruinous mace, the Plaguemaker. The flanged head was crusted in a rotting coating of revolting gore and wept a shower of maggots that feasted on the carrion caught in its crevices.Leaving a trail of dripping pus as he slid off his seat, the Plague Priest approached an empty clay basin and drew a curved fileting knife from somewhere within his soiled brown robes. Opening the lid of a small cage set beside the basin, the diseased ranat's boil covered paw withdrew from the cage holding the scruff of a hissing loth cat. A quick slash of the knife in his other paw opened the creature's stomach and spilled its guts into the clay basin. Skrolk tossed the cat carcass over his shoulder, discarding it now that it had served it use, then plunged his paws into the bowl full of freshly spilled organs. As Skrolk rummaged through the entrails, studying them, the ropes of intestine began to take on a familiar shape. Peering through cataract crusted eyes full of rheum, the Verminlord swore he saw the saurian visage of his master among the gooey carrion, leering back at him with mismatched eyes possessed with arcane malevolence.<< Ssskrolk. >> Hissed the serpentine voice of the Famine Lord, his words broadcast across time and space through the fey, telepathically spoken into the diseased brain of the Plague Priest. << Ssspeak. >>Bowing his hooded head, the Verminlord of Clan Pestilblight moved closer to the possessed bowl of entrails, leaning his leprous snout over the receptacle for Dragus' psychic communion.All proceeds according to plan, your Supreme Dreadfulness. We've collected the last of the womp rat specimens we'll require and have been hard at work studying the effects of the gray-rot. You'll be pleased to hear that you were right. The womp rats appear to only carry the pathogen, suffering no ill effects from it themselves. They'll make excellent carriers of the disease."<< Well if there iz one thing I know, it'z rodentz. Siss, Siss, Siss >> He-Who-Hungers' sinister serpentine laughter rattled around Skrolk's head like a rock viper's tail. The mucus making mouse pressed two diseased paws to the sides of his skull, gripping the stumps of his ears, which had rotted off during his elevation to Verminlord. As the laughter faded away and the disfigured rodent could finally focus his thoughts, he continued his briefing. "Indeed you do, my most merciless master. All that's left is to decide the perfect spot for our inaugural test."<< Hmmm, well letz not wassste fuel. The Sssith Eternal iz operating on limited fundz until our new Sssupreme Leader sortz out the budget. I'm certain you'll find a sssuitable tesssting sssite sssomewhere on that ball of sssand. Let'z sssee here. What about Moz Essspa? I ssseem to recall that town had a sssizable population. >>"It did, your Resplendent Ruthlessness, until you attacked them with an army of night ewoks and harvested the entire town for their skin..." << Oh right. I completely forgot. Siss, Siss, Siss. Right, well, where elssse? How about Moz Eisssely? I'd hate to infect sssuch a fine hive of ssscum and villainy with thiz delightful plague of yourz, but given itz reputation I doubt anyone will even notice, ssso infect away. >>"Your desire is my great pleasure to pursue, your Most Murderful. Mos Eisely will be the target."
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 722
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on Sept 7, 2024 0:37:31 GMT -8
A Ship shot across the barren wasteland, climbing at an alarming speed. Going…. Going…. And indeed the ship was gone
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,428
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Sept 17, 2024 8:57:27 GMT -8
Mos Draga  |
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