The Under City

It had been a treacherous walk from the bridge to the top deck. Small electrical fires were being fought all over the ship by ewok and tynnan crew members with red cylinders of extinguishing chemicals, mostly CO2 in the case of these particular flames (safety first). Bey discarded his new coat and pushed open the sealed door to the upper deck, stumbling out onto the portion of the ship exposed to the open sky. Well, less open and more blanketed in acidic clouds of pollution, but still, exposed. The old boar walked towards the rear of the ship and rested his hands on the railing that surrounded the deck, leaning over the side to look at the ground below. The ship appeared to be sitting on a large refuse pile. That was probably the only reason they had survived the crash. The garbage must have acted as a sort of cushion. He lifted one hand off the railing and put it to his forehead, shielding his eyes from any glare while squinting his beady orbs in the direction of the Under City. He was too far away to hear the screams of the terrified citizens being hunted by packs of rakghoul, but he knew the creatures were still there.

As was his spear and hammer, and of course the gutter runners that supplied his shop with materials and the ranat, Sneak-Sqeak, that minded the store. They were probably all dead now. The only way to know for certain would be to head into the blighted city and see what was left, but that would be suicide, right? Realistically they had to be dead, and the weapons his father had bequeathed him were just items, replaceable. He ground his tusks together, angrily. Then again, who were these plague possessed creatures to drive him out of his business and to take away things that were precious to him? He had already fought them a few times as of late. They weren't invincible, there was just a lot of them.

Bey turned away from the troubling sight when he noticed a couple of ewok crew members on the upper deck, checking straps on some sort of wood and hide contraption. He walked over to the strange device and pointed a fat finger at it before squealing away in gamorrese.

What the heck is that thing? He asked inquisitively.

Both ewoks tightening the straps jumped and spun about, startled by the new captain's translated words. One turned to the other and said something in ewokese to the other, which they both shared a laugh over, until the tactical droid head on his hip translated their words too.

Droid: Stupid captain's never seen a paraglider before.

One furry bear person looked at another, the laughter cut short from their little throats. Fear now dominated their features as they looked up at a fuming gamorrean with steam pouring from his snout. Bey grit his tusks and roared at the top of his lungs.



Before he had moved an inch, both ewoks were shrieking and running away in terror, practically flinging themselves through the hatch that led back into the interior of the ship. The old boar let out a hearty cackle, bending at the gut and running a pudgy finger on his eye to wipe away a tear of amusement.

Location: Under City - Skies Above

Soaring over the landscape, just below black clouds of pollution, was a flying pig. Well, more specifically, a gliding gamorrean. Bey Kahn held on to the paragliders grip as though his life depended on it, for if the ground so far below was any testament, it did. Beady eyes squinted at
moving shapes beneath, shrieking audibly as they saw fresh prey overhead. The rakghoul were still active it seemed. He had assumed as much, though he would have been happy to be wrong in this case. Manipulating the controls, he took the paraglider in low, sailing just over the open gates that separated the Under City from the wasteland. It was more dangerous the lower he got but it was also easier to figure out where he was going. Though he knew these streets like the back of his hand, he knew them from the ground, not from the air. The different vantage flight gave him confused things. He tried to picture the route in his mind, then forced the paraglider into a series of turns and twists that saw him headed in the direction of his shop.

A stray blaster bolt nearly took Bey in the head as he smashed through the front entrance of his shop, trampling a rakghoul underfoot as he entered. The bolt clipped one of the horns on his head and scorched the tip black, causing the large gamorrean's chin to snap up and back, and almost causing him to crash into the table in the center of the shop. He caught himself with his hands, using the table to steady him while he looked from side to side to see where the blaster bolt had come from. Huddled in the corner in a familiar pile of rags was the ranat shop-keep Sneak-Squeak. Bey let out a puff of steam from his snout, reaching up to touch the burnt horn with a wince.

Any lower and you would have taken my head off. He squealed in gamorrese, which was then translated by the tactical droid head on his hip.

The ranat held up his hands in mock apology, before quickly squirming out of the pile of rags and rushing over to the old boar. The tiny sentient rodent threw its little paws around one of the blacksmith's legs and held on as though he never intended to let go. He squeaked a long story about how he had been trapped ever since the rakghoul had taken over the city. Bey nodded as he listened, keeping an eye fixed on the door. There were more of those creatures out there. He didn't have much time. Still listening, Bey shook the ranat free and proceeded over to his bedside. Above the bed was his father's vibro-lance, the Pale Spear. He grabbed the treasured family heirloom and spun it around a few times for good measure.

It was good to have it back. The weapon really was like a part of him.

Bey then hurried over to the forge where the smithing hammer given to him by his adopted father was waiting. He picked up the precious tool of his trade and remarked at the expert craftmanship that went into it. Say what you would about Sloan Skirata, the human had possessed a great deal of talent when it came to the forge. He clipped the hammer to his belt just as a rakghoul scampered through the smashed open entrance. The old boar spun, taking his vibro-lance in hand and rushed the feral disease spreader. In one deft blow he smashed the butt of the spear into the monster's face, shattered most of the teeth in its ugly mouth, before spinning the weapon around overhead and slicing off the beast's head. Infected blood sprayed across the floor and a headless corpse toppled to the ground.

Time to go, I think. He said to Sneak-Squeak.

Bey maneuver his swoop-hog from side to side, dodging rakghoul as they rushed the approaching speeder, occasionally running one over when they couldn't be avoided. His father's vibro-lance which he had mounted on the front of the bike like a spear, was already thick with diseased corpses, impaled and then dragged along for the ride. He reached down to his side and take hold of the smithing hammer his adopted father had given him, taking it into his ham like fist and then swinging it down in a sickening crunch to crush the skull of a creature on his right. There wasn't much to see other than swarms of the creatures, most of the surviving citizens were already hidden away, if they were still alive at all. There was some hope though.

He listened to the radio traffic on the swoop's com-system and could hear that First Order suppression teams were on the verge of moving in to scourge the area of the rakghoul infestation. They needed to get back out to the wasteland before that happened. It was unlikely the armoured stormtroopers would bother trying to tell the difference between the infected and non-infected. Anyone that didn't get out, wasn't ever going to get out, if you get what I'm saying. He sped towards the gate doors that had been the diseased creature's original method of entrance into the city. They were stuck open, corpses littering the ground all around. He didn't slow though, instead twisted the accelerator control and feeding more power to the rumbling mechanical beast between his legs.

Yahoo! The droid on his hip translated, shouting as the old boar squealed in excitement.

They zipped out through the open gates, zooming towards the wasteland beyond. If he kept the pace up they would be back at the ship within twenty minutes.

As Mal approached the nearest cantina, he is stopped by a pair of Rodians. They bark at him through their drooping snouts in Huttese.
<"Theres a toll for travelers coming through here. "> One snorts
<"Yeah, and the price is that shiny armor!"> says the other.

Mal stands his ground and says nothing, glaring at them through his helmet's visor in silence. He doesn't know what they are saying, but he knows exactly what this is. Knowing whats about to come next, he relaxes his fist and subtly lowers his hand closer to his holstered blaster pistol.

<"This is Zerk territory, hand over your valuables now and maybe we wont fry ya">
As the Rodian finished his sentence, Mal's eyes followed the Aggressor's hands over to his holster. In the blink of an eye, they both drew their guns and there was two blinding flashes of light in quick succession. Both rodians fell to their deaths with large scorch marks on their chests. The one that drew his blaster had not even removed it fully from its holster yet. A single trail of smoke slowly left the barrel of Mal's gun before he quickly spun it around once and holstered it again. He continued on his way stepping over the rodian bodies as if they weren't even there. He Finally reaches his destination and enters the cantina, the sound of a band playing fills his ears as he enters and approaches the bar.

Mal squinted at the ewok perplexed for a moment. He had never seen an ewok speak basic before, but he wasn't about to bite the hand that feeds him. Hesitant at first, the mandalorian moves over to the ewok and stands at the bar next to him close--but not too close. He removes his helmet to reveal his jet black hair and unshaven face.

He looks to the bartender and barks "Just get me something strong." then looks back at the ewok. "Preciate' it."


The bartender comes back with the drink and Mal noisely slurps down a third of it. wiping off the blue residue from his mouth, he looks again to the ewok.  He wasn't sure if he could be trusted, but this mandalorian was desperate for work. Still, he kept one hand at least resting on his thigh close to his blaster--but not too close.

"I'm looking for work, are you a hunter?"



  

Mal raised his eyebrows at the job offer. He looked down at his drink and ponders as he lightly twisted his wrist in a circular motion, swirling the blue swill into a spiral in his cup. He takes another sip.
"Gamorrean's are nothing to scoff at..." He turns the bottom of his cup up to ceiling, chugging the rest of his drink and slamming the empty cup on the bar top. "Sounds like fun."

Mal Looks down at the being's little paw. He hesitates for a second, then obliges taking the paw which fit almost entirely in Mal's palm alone.
"Sounds plenty fair. Name's Mal."

He then puts his helmet back on, a sharp suction noise follows as the helmet falls into place. Mal's voice crackles through the helmet's vocal emitter.
"Just one question. Who is it you are looking for? Someone you're gonna put in the ground?"

The pair of them walked outside to be met with the stink of Taris' Lower levels. Mal stopped and breathed it in deeply, a wretched hive of scum and villainy such as this meant there was work. To him, it was the smell of credits. The aged ewok hobbled past him and Mal examined him inquisitively, he wasnt what Mal had expected to find here, but he was glad to finally find some work again.
"As long as she can get us there, I dont care if you're riding a Tauntaun"

Mal began following Tarfang and as they got further from the cantina, Mal noticed the bodies of the goons he had fried earlier had been discovered by their buddies. Four of them total, two trandoshans and two humans. Mal was hoping they wouldn't notice them as they walk by, but of course as they got closer one of them that was crouched over the dead body stood up to lock eyes with Mal. The Trandoshan's scaled face seemed to curl up as he gave the mandalorian the death stare.
"Did either of you see what happened here?"

The leather of Mal's gloved hand softly whined as his hand clenched to a fist tighter and tighter. He wanted so badly to tell this guy the truth, to taunt this lizard freak into some kind of conflict so he could kill him and his buddies. But he knew now was not the time. He had a job to do, and this would only slow them down. He fist relaxed into and open palm and Mal tilted his head to look at the body laying behind the ghoulish trandoshan. He found the restraint to eek out the words with a bitter coldness behind them.
"Nope, got no idea."