Xxoxia Valuna
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The rouge Errant.
Posts: 72 
Affiliation: Order of the Flame
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Post by Xxoxia Valuna on Sept 3, 2013 12:50:43 GMT -8
Xxoxia watched as Alex's ship left for orbit. She was happy to see the men go, their company was starting to really grate on her. With a nod the Simic hefted off the bottom of Beggar's Canyon and followed Alex's lead. Next stop Bakura.
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Post by Jggidorrry Lim-Fao on Sept 13, 2013 11:56:36 GMT -8
The twilight before dawn was approaching slowly, the first hint of sunlight from Tatooine's double stars bouncing over the stratosphere and casting a bluish glow over the scan below. Jiggy sat casually atop a ridge, looking through his binocs, wondering how skilled the 20 or 30 pirates below him were.
The way they were carrying things to their all haphazard, dropping what Jiggy knew was rather delicate cargo. It was all weapons grade baradium, about three hundred grand worth of it. The rest was a bit of spice, and some other cargo only smuggler's would have their hands on. But these guys weren't just on a contract; they'd been stealing half of their cargo from Jacko the Hutt, hoping to turn an extra profit.
Seeing as The Jig and his compadres were called in, it would seem the losses had finally been enough to call in pest control.
Without moving anything at all, our hero spoke cryptically into his built in comm unit. "Breaker breaker 1-2, this is Big Bro Jiggernaut. We got about thirty ants need squishin', if ya'll fellas are ready then let's drop the hammer on the nest."
Jiggy jumped off his outlook point on the ridge, drawing two knives in mid-air. He impacted the rear of their cargo ship torso-first, and pushed his knives into the various connectors to the engines. Smoke exploded out of one of them, while the other spilled a bluish-green goo. Objective one was complete.
"That means go, by the way."
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Post by Mack Revette on Sept 13, 2013 12:25:36 GMT -8
"D'oh, shit!" Mack fell over himself in his hurry to stand up, and went rolling down the ridge to the right of Jggidorrry's position. He hit the bottom and stood, brushing dust from his beloved leather coat and sniffing as he slid a pair of goggles over his eyes. "Doo doo dmmm dm, doo doo dmmm dm..." It was a jaunty little tune he was humming. "Ahem, now then, where are ya, fuckers?" The gunslinger squinted and looked right at the mass of pirates, already swarming in response to Jigg's attack. They didn't look right. Not pirate-y enough. Where was the leather? The latex? The whips and chains? At this time it is worth noting that Mack's education was, at this point, appallingly incomplete in some respects, and his only experience with anything piratical had been a very interesting little club in the Corellian underworld called "The Brig." He'd never understood since then why the pirates he encountered after that night looked nothing like the pirates he encountered in the club. Nor were they nearly as... affectionate. Beginning to walk towards the group, Mack spoke into his comm. "Are we sure these are the guys?" He didn't realize that he needed to hold down the key for anybody to hear him. One of the pirates happened to notice Mack and took a badly-aimed potshot at him with a carbine. Mack yelped and skipped sideways, letting the bolt glass the sand behind him. In a twinkling he had palmed his own blaster and smoked the man from his left hand, beginning to sprint forward. He shouted into his comm again as he ran, whooping, "Never mind, they gon' die anyway!" Amid the cacophony of fire being directed at Jigg, nobody had noticed his shot, and he actually managed to approach unnoticed. By the time he reached the speeders, he'd drawn his magnum and was ready to play. Holstering his blaster, the gunslinger leapt aboard the nearest speeder and grabbed one pirate by the collar, shoving the barrel of his pistol into the man's mouth. "Can I ask you something?" The man's eyes were wide as he fumbled for his weapon, and some of his allies turned, momentarily shocked into inaction. Apologetically, Mack asked, "Is your health plan any good?" The pirates managed to get their rears in gear and all aimed their guns. Impressed, Mack put the unfortunate pirate between him and the others, blowing out the back of his skull to shoot another man in the throat. "Well shit, apparently it's real fuckin' good!" |
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Korum
Member
Damn it feels good to be a gangster
Posts: 37 
Affiliation: The Exchange
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Post by Korum on Sept 13, 2013 15:31:59 GMT -8
Pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt, Korum shook one loose and lit up as he watched the carnage unfold from his position atop the ridge. Mack's shouting drifted up faintly, interspersed by a smattering of blaster fire and the concussive report of that slugthrower he carried around with him. Inhaling a lungful of acrid smoke, the smuggler searched the crowd for Lim-Fao but couldn't get eyes on him. He must've moved around the side of the cargo ship. Thinking wistfully of his revolvers, safely tucked away in the room he'd rented back in Mos Espa, Korum cast one last envious glance down at Mack before he knelt beside his companion.
A customized X-45 sniper rifle with a reinforced durasteel-alloy frame and advanced targeting system. The case was laying open next to it, with a few extra clips scattered within- not that he anticipated needing them. With those two psychopaths down in the thick of things he'd be lucky to burn through the first one.
"Alright Revette, a little to the right..." He muttered under his breath, peering through the scope.
Exhaling, he pulled the trigger twice and watched the Weequay looking to flank the gunslinger fly off his feet, a glut of blood exploding from his chest. Grinning around his cigarette the smuggler shifted his aim and fired again, this time aiming at a humanoid male carrying only a vibroblade. He ducked at the last moment, seeking cover from the hailstorm of fire, and the shot kicked up sand a few feet behind him, sending scurrying for cover. "Son of a- !"
Letting out a string of vehement curses, he reached out a hand and slapped the weapon's tripod mount, then peered back through the scope, surveying the scene.
"Ah, manning the turret are we? I don't think so..."
Exhaling, Korum squeezed the trigger twice more.
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Post by Jggidorrry Lim-Fao on Sept 13, 2013 15:54:53 GMT -8
"Aww you guys and your fancy guns!"
Jiggy dismounted the ship he'd just stabbed to death with a double backflip, landing right on top of the target Korum has missed.
"You thought you were lucky, eh buddy?" Jiggy smiled wide under his mask, proud of the stuck landing. He retracted the downward pointing blades back into the heel of his 'stiletto' boots and laugh a little.
"I'll be honest with you guys," he continued, watching blaster bolts bounce around him, some bouncing off the thin beskar chestplate. He walked forward, a group of five or so smugglers slowly retreating from him as he advanced.
"I really think I want a gun now. They look fun as hell."
The Jig stopped moving and cracked his neck. The suppressing fire seemed to stop, as if the men slated to die might have realized it was doing nothing productive. They were really bad shots. A plume of smoke exited Jiggy's backpack, something that looked a little small to be a jetpack. But hey, awesome stuff came in tiny packages. Except genetalia.
The jetpack roared to life, sending our ecstatic protagonist towards the men, whose ducking for cover wouldn't save them from a thermal detonator. The flying contraption strapped to Jiggy's back spurted out as he hit the ground running. He slammed blades first into another pirate to slow himself down, before jumping over to another. He put his daggers deep into the man's shoulders, in the little pocket between the clavicals.
"But not nearly as fun as jetpacks."
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Post by Mack Revette on Sept 14, 2013 10:44:43 GMT -8
"Oh, oh, no no no no!" Mack staggered backwards, aiming carefully at the man who had just taken up his post on the turret and was gunning for the gunslinger. He wasn't very good, though. "No no no NOOO, you lost the game!" Mack cackled as the man slumped backwards, his face reshaped around a new hole burned into what used to be his mouth and nose. Mack's face suddenly creased into a concerned frown, and he darted forward to where the pirate's body now lay on the ground. Mack covered the yards in a few quick strides, dodging - or rather, ignoring and failing to notice - the flurry of blasterfire directed towards him. Mack dropped to his knees beside the man and lifted the pirate's head into his lap. Desperately, the gunslinger fanned at the vapors wafting from the wound. "No, no, no! Smoking is bad for you!"
A spatter of blasterfire rained around him. Holy shit, Mack thought, these guys must be stormtroopers! Wheeling and booting the dead man to the sand, Mack stood and unloaded both pistols at the pirates. "You assholes! I'm trying to help him make good life decisions and not contract lung cancer! Ooh," he said, attention darting to one side, "is that spice?" The gunslinger ducked to one side, leaping from one ship to the next and sliding in next to the crates of spice.
"No, no no!" he screamed, firing his reloaded blaster to waste three more pirates. "You can't have it! It's all mine! I'm the Spice King and you can't have any!!"
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Korum
Member
Damn it feels good to be a gangster
Posts: 37
Affiliation: The Exchange
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Post by Korum on Sept 17, 2013 13:12:19 GMT -8
Putting a bolt through the knee of a pirate, Korum waited for him to drop and then put two more bolts in his head before shifting to another target. His finger tightened on the trigger as he sighted in on the Rodian, who was running for cover from the flurry of blasterfire being put down by Mack. Puffing contentedly on his cigarette as he tracked the alien, Korum waited until just before his target made it to safety and then squeezed the trigger, putting a neat black hole through his stomach and leaving him screaming and seizing in the sand.
There were a few more stragglers, but it looked like Lim-Fao was closing in on them now. The smuggler flicked away his cigarette, sat up, and began disassembling the sniper rifle. Even with its modified frame, it was still rather frail, and he didn't trust it not to get fractured or grimed up if it remained out of its case for very long. Setting the pieces and the spare clips within, he snapped the case shut and started down the hill toward the ruins of the freighter, and the bodies of its crew.
The Rodian was still screaming when he reached the others, so he pulled the DL-18 off his belt and fired two rounds into its chest. It jerked once then expired- he kicked it to make sure. The smell of ozone and blood hung heavy in the air, and red puddled in the sand. The stench combined with the massive heat was sickening. Removing his hat, the smuggler fanned his face with it a few times, then dropped his case atop the Rodian's corpse and lit another cigarette while he waited for the others.
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Post by Jggidorrry Lim-Fao on Sept 18, 2013 10:39:38 GMT -8
Jiggy pulled his knives from the still standing corpse of the pirate and pushed him over.
"Well guys, that was fun. Mack, get out of the spice. It's not good for you."
Jiggy pushed open the doors to the cargo ship and put his hands on his hip. "Man, Jacko must have though they were stealing a lot more. We're getting two hundred each and they were only stealing four hundred or so. Also I don't want to carry all this so who knows how to fix what I broke? We can just-"
As The Jig was going on about how to transport the stolen cargo back to Mr. Jacko, the blob of fat himself strode over the ridge on his repulsorcraft, servants and bodyguards in tow.
"Well never mind."
Jacko started saying something in a dead trade language no one cared to learn anymore, gesturing to the ship and the cargo strewn about. The translator droid perked up as the Hutt finished his mindless babbling, repeating what he'd said in a, perhaps, more polite tone. "Jacko says congratulations on the good work. You will be paid when the cargo is brought back to his umm.. Lair, and counted. You may wish to ahem- hitch a ride with us, as we seem to have disabled your craft with the underside of ours."
Jiggy looked down to see the same bluish-green goo covering the repulsorcraft's lower bow, indicating that they'd hit his engines. Well damn.
"Yea, sure." Was Jiggy's response, and he walked towards the Hutt's ship as the cronies began grabbing the stolen 'goods'.
"You guys coming?" He asked into the comm unit, not sparing them a glance. He was kinda pissed his ship was out of commission.
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Post by Mack Revette on Sept 18, 2013 15:49:03 GMT -8
"But... but... Spice King..." Mack hugged the nearest crate for a moment, attempting to summon tears. They refused to appear, sending word that they just didn't feel appreciated any more and so Mack could go fuck himself and cry an ocean. Pouting, the gunslinger stood and rolled his shoulders, returning his weapons to their holsters. "Eh, okay, let's get outta here. Everybody have a good time, take lots of pictures? It's not like you'll find a view like this," he gestured to the endless dunes, "anywhere else on the planet. Might wanna take a moment to remember it, I'm just sayin'."
With an easy swing, Mack pulled himself aboard the repulsorcraft. He stripped the tinted goggles from his eyes and let them hang around his neck, winced and squinted in the harsh sunlight, and slid them back on. "Let's roll, I need me that money." A Trandoshan gave him a mean glance, and Mack stuck his tongue out at the lizard. "Not our fault y'all couldn't get shit done," he muttered. The lizard turned away, and a spot of mischief blinked to life in his mind. On the back of the lizard's belt hung a thermal detonator and a sheathed vibroknife. With a deft hand, Mack snuck both into his hands and then into the pockets of his long coat. Teehee. Stupid lizaaaard. The gunslinger found a quiet corner and slumped in it, pulling his coat up to provide some shade as he attempted to take a nap.
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Korum
Member
Damn it feels good to be a gangster
Posts: 37
Affiliation: The Exchange
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Post by Korum on Sept 19, 2013 17:27:32 GMT -8
"Ayuh." Korum grunted by way of reply, hefting his case and trudging past the crowd of Jacko's men. It really was a shame that the Hutt had arrived so fast- it would've been nice to sample the merchandise. Which, the smuggler thought regretfully, was probably why the worm had shown up when he did. Mack had a reputation, after all. No doubt the Hutt assumed he'd get his spice back from the pirates only to lose it to the gunslinger's tooter. Trudging through the sand on his way to Jacko's sand barge, Korum trailed behind his two associates, studying them idly. Truth be told he didn't know much about them, except for the glaringly obvious fact that they were both completely insane. Mack had an almost childish mentality, and that combined with his proficiency at killing was a bit unnerving to say the least.
Lim-Fao...well, he was a bit harder to read. But it gave the smuggler the chills to meet his gaze.
Clamoring aboard Jacko's transport, Korum set the case containing his sniper rifle down gently and took a seat next to Mack. Puffing on his cigarette, he reflected that the tobacco wasn't really doing much for him. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the company, but it wasn't helping him unwind the way it was wont to after he'd done some killing. Removing his hat so he could run a hand back through his shock of crimson hair, he squinted out over the endless dunes and cursed. They hardly seemed to be moving at all. This was going to be a long ride...might as well pass the time somehow.
The vial of Giggledust came from his breast pocket. Korum flicked away his cigarette and removed the cork.
"Revette?" He asked, offering the vial.
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Post by Jggidorrry Lim-Fao on Sept 19, 2013 20:58:01 GMT -8
Jiggy never seemed particularly aware of anything that ever occurred around him, but a few seconds in his mind was evidence enough to show the opposite. In his head ran a million things at once, so many meaningless things to anyone else; the precise frequency of the ship's engines, how Jacko held his bodyguards close, the distance to the city ahead. They all told that Jack was fearful. Most would never pick up on it, but the repulsorcraft was actually moving above its recommended speed for the load it was carrying. He noticed the way Korum had been eyeing Mack and himself, trying to read deeper into their mannerisms. It coaxed a strangely audible laugh from Jiggy, who put a hand to his mask in a weak attempt to stifle himself.
He noticed the particularly long drag from Korum's cigarette, just before he flicked it away. With a quick and agile maneuver, Jiggy grabbed it in the air between his fingers, as if he'd been the one smoking it the entire time. It didn't help make the guards stop giving him a strange look.
"So what's the big deal with these things; are they kinda like death sticks? Doesn't smell the same, that's for sure." Jiggy brought the cigarette up to the viewport eye holes of his mask, examining the tobacco filled paper tube, slowly smoldering to its end.
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Post by Mack Revette on Sept 24, 2013 20:15:05 GMT -8
Damn, y'know, right now I could really go for a blow.
"Uugggh, somebody suck my - " Mack's eyes flickered open and he sat up, but clamped his mouth shut as he realized there wasn't a single female in sight. Well… balls. Oooh, shit, my balls itch. As Korum made his offer, Mack shoved a hand down his trousers to scratch his sandy balls and then picked his nose with the same hand, nodding all the while.
"Yeah, sure, gimme a hit." He took the offered vial and poured out a bit of powder into his cupped hand, promptly shoving it into his nose and snorting deeply. He coughed, shaking his head as the drug kicked in. Ooooooo yeah, baby. There we go. He giggled, of course, and leaned against the barrel at his back, blowing a long sigh. "G'damn, that's some good shit." One hand fumbled at his holster and fished his blaster forth, idly twirling it on his finger.
His mind swirled, exploring itself like a serpent tying itself in knots. When his eyes opened again, he saw clearly, vividly, every color thrown into numbingly brilliant contrast that left his chest heaving and his mouth gaping. Yet at the same time, he could barely claim to have ever seen more clearly. He had his moments, when the adrenaline took over, when he was faster and sharper and smoother than even he could understand, but those were never this cognitive.
Mack watched, seemingly struck dumb, as a brawny Trandoshan snarled at one of his Rodian comrades. They were arguing over a matter of money, Mack could see it in the way they were standing and talking and looking and posing and just in the way they were being, it was written in every fiber of their personhood that the Trandoshan planned to stick a knife in the Rodian's throat at the first chance he got, only the knife he was looking for was stuck in Mack's belt and so if he didn't check before he made his pass bad things could happen and he would probably die and that was just so damn fucking funny that Mack started giggling again, because people always die and that's just the way it works and so Mack is just an agent of life, yeah?
Then there were the two faggot heavies standing off to the side with their vibroaxes and carbines, trading the kind of looks that said "Hey there cutie, how about I fuck your hairy ass long and hard later, yeah?" To be honest that kind of made Mack a little queasy because he'd never been down with that kind of sickness, he liked lady-holes much more than dude-holes, that was just how it had always been and how it always would be because Mack just quite simply loved him some ladies.
This was all without even getting started on the way Jacko was eyeing his reacquired merchandise like he wanted to stick whatever passed for a Hutt's dick into it and looking at all his hirelings like they were just little bitches looking to score a piece of tail, the tail being his good spice and merchandise, ohoho, no no no, Jacko did not trust his own men, not one bit, and that was curious indeed and absolutely humorous at the same time, and so Mack kept sniggering to himself at the thought that he could start a fight on this damn craft right now and probably end up with half the fighters on his side facing down with those on Jacko's side and then they'd just all die in a bloody mass and wouldn't that be so fucking funny?
Outside his own mind, Mack giggled and his head lolled back, mouth hanging open and a bit of drool collecting at the corner.
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Korum
Member
Damn it feels good to be a gangster
Posts: 37
Affiliation: The Exchange
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Post by Korum on Oct 5, 2013 14:17:33 GMT -8
Korum's amber gaze lingered on Lim-Fao, his brow furrowing. "What's the deal with...cigarettes?"
He was distracted by Revette tugging the vial from his fingers. Taking it back, he studied the now considerably smaller pile of spice with a regretful look on his face. 'Should've known better,' the smuggler lamented. Pouring a small dose into the palm of his hand, he leaned in and snorted. Immediately the familiar burning rush raced up his nasal passages and assaulted his brain. Pinching the bridge of his nose as tears welled in the corners of his eyes, Korum coughed a laugh and leaned back.
A new cigarette was taken from his pack and placed between his lips. He wasn't aware he was doing it until he was cupping his hands around the flame and inhaling the smoke. 'Fuck,' the smuggler thought, grinning. 'That is good shit.'
Blowing out a cloud of smoke and sagging in his seat, Korum stared out across the endless dunes and tripped.
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Post by Jggidorrry Lim-Fao on Dec 16, 2013 16:08:22 GMT -8
As several Yes albums played through the minds of Mack and Korum, the sandboat slowly made its way towards Jacko's hideout. The trip seemed to drag on, even for Jiggy, whom was nearly never bored. The ship just seemed to go slower and slower every second. And then it even seemed to stop.
"Huh. That's quite the mirage. It almost looks like we're not even moving." Then, of course, a couple of trandoshans decided to stand up, their cloaks not rustling in the wind like they were before.
"Oh." Jiggy was now pretty well aware that these guys wanted to have a picnic. It was really too bad, because he really hated picnics. Like, despise. He spun from his leaning stance, knife in hand, and drove it deep into the would-be picnicker.
"I HATE OUTDOOR FOOD-BASED GATHERINGS," he yelled upon pulling the knife from the first lizard, before immediately throwing it into a second. The eight or so other members of the mercenary force stared back, shock in their eyes, and then suddenly anger.
The Jig turned back to Mack and Korum, wondering if he'd even need them. "Hey guys, are you still tripping balls, or do you want in on this?"
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Post by Mack Revette on Dec 16, 2013 17:23:42 GMT -8
There was a wonderful ringing buzz in his ears that inexplicably reminded Mack of sex and really good breakfast food, and he was still giggling and drooling when other sounds started cutting in. Jggidorrry was screaming about picnics, and there was one sound that Mack was hearing that he never had had a problem recognizing: killing. By the sound of it, knife-killing. Knife-killing was fun; not as fun as gun-killing, but still pretty fuckin' fun. His head was still rolling stupidly, but Mack dragged his fingers up to his eyes and, despite his intense and sudden desire to just lay back and sleep, literally pried his lids apart. What he saw amused him, as the armored mercenary started killing Trandos. That was cute, honestly; Mack found himself legitimately popping a slight chub for the simply artistic way that Jiggy - wait, Jiggy? Yeah, sure he would call him Jiggy - fucked up the collective shit of those lizards.
In fact, it looked so cute that Mack wanted in on it, and now he was realizing that the skiff had stopped moving. Jiggy was screaming about picnics as he cut down the second lizard, and Mack's mind suddenly began to whirl. No civilization in sight. Skiff had stopped. Operation was run by a Hutt. Hutt didn't trust his contractors. Hutts are greedy son-bitches. Hutt didn't want to pay his contractors. Hutt was going to kill his contractors. Hutt was an idiot, because he hired contractors to do shit his own men couldn't, so how were his men going to kill his contractors? Hutt was going to die.
As his eyes rolled and he tried to focus, Mack realized that one particular Trando, the one whose knife he'd stolen, was walking straight towards him. Eh, fuck, he thought, coughing, let's feckin' do it.
"Shitfuck, man," Mack coughed, stumbling to his feet as the Trando grabbed his collar and hauled him up, "I fuckin' hate that shit too." The lizard reached to his belt for his vibroknife - but it was gone. He glanced down to his sheath, confused, but looked back up when he heard a loud buzzing, punctuated with a dusty cough. Mack held the weapon in his face, the vibration mechanism at full power. The killer sneezed and said "Looking for this?" The lizard managed a hiss of rage and fright before the huge knife's blade chewed through his torso from collar to hip, and he collapsed in a gurgling pile of gore.
"'ey, Jiggy," Mack giggled, drawing his pistols and kicking the carcass aside as he aimed at the remaining seven thugs, "fuck these guys, am I right?" Just for fun, Mack didn't start shooting yet. He wanted to give them a sporting chance, and they were all paused for some reason. He held his blaster and his revolver and waited. "Come on, ya fucks," he hooted, "gimme something to jack off to tonight!!"
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Nartaga
Member
Sometimes you must pick the gun up to put the gun down.
Posts: 614
Affiliation: R'Crurak Clan
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Post by Nartaga on Jan 14, 2014 20:37:17 GMT -8
Nartaga rode on his Bantha into enemy territory. He knew for a while he was being watched. Few went into Tusken territory without being noticed, especially another Tusken from another clan. The numbers of the clan had been significantly reduced with the loss on their side of the Civil War, but they were not going to lose any more of their territory. The scouts had come back with a message of approval, so long as Nartaga travel by himself, not including his Bantha of course. He stopped his Bantha, and got off, holding up his hands. Almost immediately he was set upon by no less than eight Tuskens, that he saw. They were ready for him. Not surprising this was the agreed rendezvous spot. The last thing he saw was the swift motioned of a buttstock.
When he woke up he was in a tent. In the center was a fire. He could see the shadows of Guards on the outside of the tent with the flicker of the fire. He looked at the Tuskens in the tent with him. All he did, all he could do, was properly cross his legs and place his hands on his knees.
"Straight to business then....."
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Nartaga
Member
Sometimes you must pick the gun up to put the gun down.
Posts: 614
Affiliation: R'Crurak Clan
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Post by Nartaga on Jan 20, 2014 13:54:13 GMT -8
Nartaga had been in talks with the clan leaders for a few hours. At first the Chieftains and Shamans met the R'Crurak Councilor with hostility, but they eventually settled down as the talks continued. Nartaga did not want to re-open old wounds, but he had tried to pry into nature of the original attacks. The current Chieftains were new, at least for their clans. Most of their leaders had been killed for died from injuries in the assault of the main camp back during the Civil War. They spoke of black robed figures visiting their camp at night, of treasure and powers beyond their comprehension.
=Nartaga in Tusken=
"I believe the people that came to your Chieftains were Dark Outsiders. They attacked us before using a Jawa clan, and a power droid. I do not hold it against your fallen. They are not to be crossed, if one values their life....but at the cost of their souls...."
So it had been the Dark Siders who had instigated the Civil War, corrupting the leadership of other clans, uniting them against the R'Crurak. They had lost, but Nartaga still felt the loss of his brethren. They were from other clans, but they were all Tuskens. They shared a home, blood, and strife. Each clan had its own culture, consisting of traditions, rites of passage, marriage, spiritualism. How many clans and tribes had been destroyed and lost during the War? The Tuskens as a people were lesser for it.
As the talks progressed, Nartaga brought up the reason he was here; to gain passage to the clans' territories to salvage wrecked spacecraft. The Chieftains were astonished at the boldness of the Councilor's request. He had brought no goods to trade, and no back-up to protect him for speaking so boldly. Still, to try and kill Nartaga would bring about more conflict. The clans were weakened, while the R'Crurak continued to grow in strength. Tuskens were known to be bloodthirsty and barbaric, but they were not stupid when it came to tactics. The odds were not in their favor. They had never been in their favor to begin with. They agreed, but stipulated that the amount of R'Crurak forces be limited to small, lightly armed teams. Nartaga agreed, as most of their salvage teams consisted of Jawas anyways.
Nartaga then tried to build off of this agreement, offering a truce, even an alliance. The Chieftains spat curses at the Councilor, who only hung his head. The Chieftains spoke of honor, of retaining their individuality. Nartaga tried to explain that they would not be R'Crurak, only that they would be allies, each reaping the benefits of space flight. Nartaga was called a heretic, a blasphemer, and a false prophet within a second of even speaking of space flight. It had been the folly of the Kumumgah, and they would have nothing to to with it. Only one of the Chieftains seemed interested, but he did not voice his opinion.
Keeping his head down, Nartaga stood up and left the tent, getting onto his Bantha and heading back to the Enclave. If any of the Chieftains changed their mind, they knew how to get in contact with him.
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Feb 9, 2014 17:49:16 GMT -8
The Ardent class Fast Frigate slowly landed on its landing gear after circling the sky a couple times. It needed to find a suitable place to land, and not sink like a very large and technologically advanced rock. Not finding anything, the captain decided to "Pfft". He put the package in an escape pod and shot her out. The Ardent then went up into orbit and dropped two communication satelites. Then, the Ardent left.
The escape pod dropped into the sand with a similar sound that the Captain made when he realised he cant land. What came out of it was said package. A Tusken, garbed in a tusken warriors garb. She also wore a slaves collar on her neck, a holster for her E-11 blaster, a vibrosword, binaculars, and a large backpack with supplies, comm unit, survival gear, sleeping gear, and a small sensor.
And finally.... the golden Gaffi stick.
That was how Nr 6 started walking. She was alone, but had good support. The satelites above gave her good GPS coverage, and also worked as a comms relay to call home. This was her real test. Her final real test. Not like the fifteen final real tests she had before, this was real. She felt it in the air. The mistress is testing her loyality now, not just her flesh and mind.
For months, she fought. She fought and resisted and clawed at her cage. With time, pain, suffering and shockingly pleasure, nr6 started to love the only thing in her life. The cage. Now, she was able to ware it with her every day, to ware her cage that kept her safe and kept her strong, reminding her that even if you get free from one cage, there is always one more. So... why fight the cage?
She wore her cage around her neck, and she vore it with pride.
She started to walk towards the Enclave.
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Nartaga
Member
Sometimes you must pick the gun up to put the gun down.
Posts: 614
Affiliation: R'Crurak Clan
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Nartaga on Feb 9, 2014 18:37:17 GMT -8
Several R'Cruran Sentries who stationed on the outskirts of R'Crurak territory were having a good time. Sugar water had an intoxicating effect on the native Tuskens. They were enjoying a quiet night on patrol, having set up camp to ready for the cold harsh Tatooine night. There were only four "sober" Tuskens who had decided not the partake in the festivities.
One of the Sentries was watching through a pair of antiquated binoculars, watching the horizon for anyone trying to encroach on R'Crurak territory. Just because the Civil War had ended did not mean they could stop guarding their borders. It was a constant struggle for all Tusken clans and tribes to guard their territory, and the R'Crurak had the largest chunk for one clan.
The guard was about to put his binoculars down when he spotted something, a glint of light reflecting off of something in the distance. The Sentry waved over to his comrades, who stood up immediately, grabbing their gaderffi and slugthrowers, and moving out.
It only took the highly trained Sentries a small amount of time to reach a Dune near to the lone Tusken, moving in the direction of the Enclave. No less than five Tuskens began to move in on the lone Tusken with the golden gaderffii. The other seven R'Crurak Sentries moved up in a straight fashion, gaderffii and slugthrowers drawn, keeping their sites on the lone Tusken as they moved forward. The Tusken that had originally spotted the golden gaderffii spoke out to the Tusken, in their native language.
=Sentry in Tusken=
"Halt! In the name of the R'Crurak clan, we demand to know your business in our territory!"
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Atia
Member
Posts: 1,232
Affiliation: Nightsisters of Dathomir
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Post by Atia on Feb 9, 2014 18:51:44 GMT -8
Anybody can put on some rags and scream with a toilet brush honorably raised over their heads in a sandbox. That is not hard. Acting like a legit Tusken? Atia didnt have time to find a teacher whom would teach tusken manners to someone. That was ONE of the reasons she had kidnapped and reeducated a tusken woman more then a year ago. Only tusken can act like real tusken.
The unknown tusken with the shiny golden Gedaffi froze on top of a dune and raised her gedaffi in a way of showing "See me, I am not hiding and I will not give up my spot easy".
-Nr 6, In tusken-
"I am known as Six, and I bring with me the promise of arms and technology. I will speak with a chieftain."
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