Cambry Owens
A Pseudo-Mandolorian. Sort of.
Location | Outer Rim > Arkanis Sector > Tatooine > Eastern Rock-Hills, approximately 100 metres from the Tusken Raider camp.
Objective | To disrupt the Tusken Raiders to the extent that they can't bother the client's business.
Cambry laid on the rocky overpass, his chest pressed into the dirt and sand and his rifle in front of him. He had wrapped all of his armor and gear in strips of tan and brown cloth - no longer were any colors really discernible, he looked like any other denizen of the desert, besides the revealed t-visor of his faceplate, currently a dull orange that reflected the grim sunset, spanning the horizon behind the Tusken Raider camp below.
He was here to do a job. His first in a while, especially like this. He had checked his weapons, he had made...well, part of a plan. But he trusted his instincts - he'd get this done, and more occupation capital would go his way. Not to mention the EVO suit.
He had been watching the camp for a while now, noting certain locations and utilizing his hud to mark spots of interest. The Bantha pens, the main warrior yard, the chieftain's tent, all marked with holographic blue shapes on the inside of his vision. Facial recognition had been set to notice the masks of his foes. And by now, he had worked up the nerve to go forward with the whole thing.
He grabbed up his rifle in his hands, pinning some dusty cloth under the barrel with his palm, to stop the attention-drawing flapping movement. Slowly, he began to edge to his right, hand over hand, pushing his body along until he'd reach the edge.
It was steep, but not too far down. The surface below was full of fine cover, which would aid him once he got down.
His plan was to kill the Banthas as stealthily as possible. If he made a big scene, they'd want revenge on the humans, but he had to make it impossible for them to be a threat any time soon.
He pushed himself forward, watching carefully for any watching faces, before he slipped down, and skidded down the hill, sprouting a cloud of dust behind him as he went. It only occurred to him then how bad an idea that might of been, but he couldn't be sure of it's impact overall.
His new vantage point wasn't quite as all-seeing, but it served it's purpose. He knew where everything is, now he just had to navigate his way around it.
Once again, he made his way to the edge of the bank, and moved to slide down it, to where he would be at ground level, even with the camp. His heart hammered in his chest, but there was nothing but smoothness in his movements, hesitation none-withstanding. He heard the barks and moans of speech inside the camp much more clearly now. Though he had listened to it's echo for the last few hours, it seemed much closer and more real as he was standing withing running distance to the first tents.
Run he did. Posture low and movements efficient, he sprinted across the open ground to the tents, settling and watching around quickly as he reached them, his inner helmet a bit breathy. It was nearly dark inside the confines of this canyon, to the point where it would be hard to see him, or distinguish him from other Tuskens for the occupants of the camp. Or so he hoped.
Once he was sure he was safe, he adopted a more natural position. He'd walk straight to the Bantha pens, no problems.
He set off at a somewhat brisk pace, his cloaking and draping cloth blowing somewhat in the twilight breeze from the entrance to the canyon. Closer and closer he got to the area housing the immense, furry animals, till he was nearly certain it would all go off without a hitch.
Then of course, a figure appeared from behind one of the closer Banthas.
The Tusken Raider looked at him, and started calling to him, as if demanding. Stang if Cambry had any idea what was being said. He had to keep quiet for now, keep moving. He continued to walk towards the raider, until he seemed to get suspicious. His hand went to his gaderffii, but he never got the chance to raise it. Cambry brought the butt of his rifle swinging up as soon as he was within range, and the crack as it impacted the Bantha-herder's head made it clear he wouldn't be an issue anymore.
He hid the body quickly, and took the gaffi-stick with him. Returning to the herd, and maintaining a constant look out for others, he began to slay the sleeping Banthas. One by one, each seemed to take longer than the last, but his nerves continued to grow in full. He was itching to get out of here, to finish the job and be back on his ship. Any moment, a horde of howling demons could come down on him, and that'd be the end.
As the last one slumped, he discarded the bloody gaffi-stick with it's owner, and hiked up his rifle. Hopefully, that'd slow them down for a while, demoralize them. If they tried to poach the Bantha's of farmers, they'd incur their wrath, and a camp this size wouldn't hold against a well-roused posse.
His plan was now just to return to his ship, parked just over the rise. He'd have to walk there, but...it was open ground by the cliff face. To move around it, he'd have to expose himself, and it wasn't quite full-dark.
He glanced around quickly. The torches in the camp cast a red glow over the makeshift tents. There wasn't much movement, but there was the occasional shuffle, or wandering Tusken.
While on the rise, he had observed a pile of what were obviously stolen belongings. One of the most notable things he had seen was a speeder bike, and that was now his focus. If he could get that, he could get out of here scott-free. And it was on the edge of the camp.
The Spacer (now mercenary) began to make his approach, edging around the sides of the tents with his rifle in the half-ready position. His attention was all around him, ears straining and eyes flicking to catch any movement or sound. He was almost there, he could see the edge of the scrapyard...
As Cambry moved to pass between two tents, he nearly ran straight into a Tusken. The Sandperson stumbled back in surprise, but only moments later began to ready for a deafening howl. CAmbry's heart lept as he recovered himself, and did the only thing he knew to do to silence him; he reached forward and wrapped an arm around the back of the Sandperson's neck, simultaneously pushing the top edge of his rifle forcefully up against it's throat. The howl died in the back of it's mouth as it's throat was constricted, and it hacked in pain and surprise. With a hurried push from the other, Cambry felt his rifle get knocked from his hands, and go knocking against the dusty ground. With almost no hesitation he replaced it with his gloved hand, already moving to drag the Tusken back behind the tents. The Raider still coughed and struggled, his own hands going to Cambry's, before the Mandalorian pulled him firmly forward and down, at the same time bringing his knee pushing up. The Sandperson had the air knocked completely out of him, and went from coughing to gasping. And immediately after that, Cambry's powerful punch across the temple knocked him out cold.
Cambry shook his hand to wave away the pain in the aftermath of the punch. He was no longer in the mood for wasting time. One of the savage men had definitely heard that, and would definitely come running. He had to get out of here now.
Cambry shook his hand to wave away the pain in the aftermath of the punch. He was no longer in the mood for wasting time. One of the savage men had definitely heard that, and would definitely come running. He had to get out of here now.
He moved at a low sprint towards the trashyard, and as he saw before, the speeder bike. It looked functional from a distance, but as he drew closer, his heart was gripped by dread when he noticed loose wires hanging from it's chassis. His rifle was slung over his back by the time he reached the bike, and pushed his hands into it's depths through an open panel, probing for any issues. Within seconds, he was praising whatever dieties might exist for his scrapyard experience, when the bike lifted off the ground with a subtle, uplifting hum.
It was time to leave. But maybe he'd leave a gift.
The majority of the Tusken Raiders woke up when Cambry screamed away on the repaired bike, shooting up dust behind him in the dark as he sped off into the sands. And minutes later, the Thermal Detonator...detonated.
As the Lassie made to head for the atmosphere only a quarter-hour later, Cambry went back and thought through it all in his head. He tore dusty strips and cloth from his armor and weapons, and pondered that while he didn't know the exact extent of the damage, he had a feeling they wouldn't bother anyone soon.
Mission Successful, then. Surprise, surprise.
[member="Darth Morgoth"]
///Exit Thread///
