Private Grasnetr o'r Tubaoe | Strangers in the Wild

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

In the rugged, snow-capped Staghnauk Mountains of Mandalore, the atmosphere was crisp and thin. Ninurta, the Beskar-clad Falleen, moved with silent efficiency through the rocky terrain. Todays beast of choice were Strills...

Feral Strills to be exact. Known for their cunning, ferocity and loyalty when tamed. For centuries Strill and Mandalorian culture was knit together and such traditions Ninurta sought to continue. Setting his traps with meticulous precision, utilizing his innate Pheromones to remain "unseen" and unsmelled by the keen-nosed creatures. The traps themselves were a blend of traditional snares and advanced technology, designed to capture and contain without harming the beasts. Contraptions that were monitored closely.

Base camp was a marvel of practicality and survivalism, nestled in a natural alcove that provided both shelter and a strategic vantage point. Automated traps deployed around the perimeter transmitted data to his HUD, which he monitored from a distance. Perched atop one of the smaller peaks that formed a plateau, Ninurta removed his helmet, revealing his chiseled features, emerald green skin and front ridge like portrusions apon the brow. The cold air bit at his exposed skin, but he seemed unbothered. He reached into his pack and retrieved his rations, carefully breaking off sections to feed his loyal companion, a Muttamok. The creature, with its sleek fur and sharp eyes, eagerly accepted the food, its presence a testament to its loyalty and undying curiosity.

As he fed his Muttamok, Ninurta's gaze swept across the landscape, his mind always calculating, always planning. The traps were in place, but his work was far from over. He knew the Strills would come, drawn by the bait and the challenge in their territory. And when they did, he would be ready.

rabidmutt
[OOC: Was not sure which account to tag]

 

[Roan Kir]

In order to survive, animals needed to compete. Whether it was for territory, mates, or food, a struggle was almost always guaranteed—especially in an environment as unforgiving as the Staghnauk Mountains. The Mandalorians who called them home were no exception to this rule.

It was part of the akaanir par cuyanyc—the fight for survival—an inevitability of life as a member of Clan Kir. No matter how polished a warrior's skill, no matter how sharp a tracker's senses, no matter how precise a hunter's arrow, the Mountain would always produce a beast capable of competing. One such beast was the strill, a six-legged eyesore whose teeth were every bit as sharp as their wit.

They made fiercely loyal companions, and even fiercer adversaries. It was all too common for a lone strill to snake a hunt out from under one of Clan Kir's young warriors. Even more seasoned members of the Clan had lost big game to the crafty strills that formed packs.

At the present moment, Roan Kir was not particularly concerned about having something stolen from her. On the contrary, she was expecting the strills to lead her to game that she could steal from them. She'd been following a small group of three or four strills for a few hours now, maintaining a safe distance as they ventured up the side of the mountain with well-placed steps.

As the wind blew downward, the strills stopped in their tracks. They turned their noses toward the sky, sniffing generously at the air before carrying on. Judging by the way they picked up their pace, they'd found something, and Roan was eager to see what it was. With her energy bow held tightly in her hand, she started after them.

Ninurta Slaabur'r

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

A blue light blinked silently three times and immediately grabbed the attention of Ninurta's Muttamok. The medium sized mammalian leaped from its spot, rebounded off a makeshift stone chair and onto next to a datapad. With both hands it grasped the device and held it outstretched in front of it. With the twitch of its head, the Muttamok turned to Ninurta and sniffed the air.

The Falleen needed no words to communicate with the mammalian. Like most creatures he encountered, his pheromones were enough to subdue or outright charm most sentient species and even gave force sensitives a run for their money. On creatures akin to his Muttamok, it was a superior form of communication. Extending a open gloved hand and signaling to the monkey like creature to come. The Muttamok beckoned to the call and handed over the device in question.

The hunt begins.

He carefully packed away the remaining rations and then lifted his helmet, its interior lined with advanced HUD interfaces. He placed it over his head, the familiar hiss of pressurization signaling the helmet's seal. The world shifted as the HUD activated, overlaying data and telemetry from his traps across his field of vision.

Ninurta rose to his feet, his movement balanced and swift. He reached for his electro-staff and seized it. In his other hand, he grabbed a Stokhli spray stick. Tools he deemed fitting and maybe essential for capturing these elusive Strills without harming them. After all he was under contract to bring them in alive. Each Strill, after its training, would be worth thousands of credits to Mando families. Already he had clients lined up to claim the strongest of his claim.

With his gear secured, the Falleen exited his base camp and he moved with the silent grace of a predator, each step purposeful and nearly soundless on the rocky terrain. The path ahead was familiar to him, marked by subtle signs and landmarks only he could decipher in his species own tongue. The perimeter came into view, marked by strategically placed traps and sensors rods. Ninurta paused, scanning the area with his HUD. There, in the distance, he spotted the faint outlines of the Strills, their lithe bodies moving stealthily through the rugged terrain. The pack was cautious but curious, drawn by the bait he had carefully laid about.

Various types of meats from animals alien to Mandalore. I am more than sure the smell was intoxicating for them. Once the Strill's were in range, then Ninurta would rely on his own pheromones to manipulate and mimic the scent of Strill Pups. From there it would be easy to lure the pack into captivity.

But there was only one problem. Several meters behind the Strill pack's trail was another signature being tracked. And this new signature moved alone and vastly different from the others.

" Poodoo." he spat under his breath and took up position a couple yards away from a open clearing littered with the alien meats.

Roan Kir

 

[Roan Kir]

As the strills moved with purpose toward the scent they'd picked up, Roan found herself surveying the area for any sign of what she could expect. The only trouble was that there were no tracks in the snow dotting the mountainside. There wasn't any blood there, either.

The strills didn't seem particularly concerned about the lack of evidence, though. They were curious, but optimistic. Their heads were held low to the ground as their powerful legs propelled them up the rocky terrain. When they arrived at a clearing, they stopped, briefly communicating through a series of yips and growls before one of them approached what appeared to be a pile of carrion.

Roan lifted a hand to her visor, activating her viewfinder and zooming in on the strill that began digging into the spoils of their search. She found it strange that there didn't appear to be any blood around the area—and even stranger that the viscera looked more like a proper cut of meat. Upon further inspection, there wasn't even a carcass in the area.

For good measure, she toggled the viewfinder's thermal setting. The earthy colors of the landscape around her instantly morphed into electric blues, neon greens, and vibrant shades of red and orange. Each of the strills were immediately recognizable, but there was something else... The unmistakable shape of a humanoid just beyond the clearing that the strills were now occupying.

If she could see them, there was no doubt in her mind that they'd already seen her. Had they been the one to draw the strills up to this location? Roan couldn't be sure, especially as she switched off the thermal setting on her viewfinder in favor of getting a closer look at the figure clad in what looked to be chitinous beskar'gam. She'd never seen anything quite like it.

Beneath her buy'ce, Roan bit down on her bottom lip as she considered her next move. Running would almost certainly rile up the strills, and she wasn't exactly crazy about the idea of turning her back on a stranger. Approaching would also alert the strills, not to mention the fact that it would bring her even closer to the armored stranger. Ultimately, her best option seemed to be watching and waiting.

So, she took partial cover behind a large rock and stared unapologetically at the figure in the unique beskar'gam, curious to see what they intended to do.

Ninurta Slaabur'r

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

With a deliberate motion, he pressed a button on his bracer, activating the traps he had meticulously set. His eyes tracked the pack of Strills as they advanced towards him, drawn by the bait and the faint scent trails he had laid down. The ground beneath the advancing Strills erupted as sonic mines sprang into the air, detonating with sharp, loud pops that disoriented the creatures without causing harm. The Strills yelped and darted in confusion, but their attempts to deviate from the set path proved futile, herded by the strategic placement of the traps.

As the pack was funneled into a clearing, Ninurta took aim from the hip, a precautionary measure to ensure no Strill escaped his control. Through his vocoder, he emitted the convincing cries of Strill pups, a sound that halted the pack's frantic movements and drew them closer. Kneeling on the snowy ground, he continued the mimicry, his posture submissive.

The Strills, having navigated the sonic traps, began to surround him. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and aggression. In a coordinated movement, they leapt at him, their bodies a flurry of fur and muscle, tackling Ninurta to the ground. Some growled and bared their sharp teeth, others barked or howled, their collective voices echoing through the mountains.

For a tense moment, the pack fought over their new "prey," but gradually, an eerie silence descended. The Strills closest to Ninurta ceased their aggression first, their heads tilting as they sniffed at him, sensing something familiar and comforting in his presence. This calmness spread through the pack like a wave, each Strill following the lead of its closest companion until they were all quiet, standing or sitting around the fallen Mandalorians figure.

From afar the scene may of looked dire, but at closer inspection Ninurta was sitting cross legged in the center of the beasts. His own pheromonal influence over powering their own instincts. Standing to his feet his gaze fell on in the direction of the figure he saw earlier. His head turning left and right scanning for where they could now be.

" Come out. You will not be harmed." he shouted.

Tag: Roan Kir

 

[Roan Kir]

The level of technology on display before Roan was unlike anything Clan Kir utilized in their own hunts. She watched with bated breath as the small pack of strills was corralled into a clearing where they drew closer to the armored stranger. Her eyes widened slightly as the strills pounced on the Mandalorian like they would an injured animal.

Roan rose up from behind her cover, thoroughly perplexed by the lack of commotion. Aside from the strills nipping at one another and doing their best to close in on the armor-clad individual, it didn’t appear that the stranger was fighting back. Maybe it was someone with a death wish. She refrained from lining up a shot with her bow in the event the Mandalorian wanted a death by strills, ducking behind cover and hoping one person would be enough to keep the beasts occupied.

However, when she heard the deep voice carry down the hill, she paused. Slowly, she peered out from behind the rock to see the stranger sitting cross-legged with the strills surrounding him. They were silent, their tails gradually flicking back and forth across the snow on the ground. Whatever frenzy they’d worked themselves into a short while ago had passed entirely.

Was this Mandalorian some kind of strill-whisperer? She couldn’t be certain, just as she couldn’t be sure she would truly be unharmed if she approached. If it came down to it, she could dispatch the strills–it was the warrior that made her cautious.

Ultimately, Roan knew that her options were few. She’d already been spotted. Her presence was as good as guaranteed. Running would make her look foolish at best and cowardly at worst. It was better to take the stranger at his word and face him head on.

Roan pulled herself up onto her feet, pushing off of the rock with her cybernetic arm and stepping out from her hiding spot. Her left hand lingered near her belt as she started up the hill, her gaze never leaving the Mandalorian and the strills around him. It wasn’t until she was a good few yards away from the man that she stopped and nodded toward the docile beasts.

“Impressive,” she said. “Where did you learn to do that?”

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

Inspecting this new Vod's measure. Ninurta looked the female warrior up and down and paused before giving a respectful nod. Outstretching his Electrostave, a button was pressed causing the weapon to collapse into itself intill all that was left was a baton like item that was then holstered behind the beast masters back. The stokhli spray stick was no longer held to aim at his hip, rather its barrel was now pointed at the ground. " Ruug'la ka'yur." an old mentor. " Taught me everything I need to know about the art of creature handling." He answered and then glanced to all the Strills around him.

A thought occurred to him.

Are these Strill's already claimed?
Were they this hunters prey?

Tilting his head some he considered the possiblity and the potential outcome. Ninurta was willing to fight for the animals if the need arose. Apart of him hoped a situation as that would not come to violence. He was in the business of taming creatures not killing his own kind.

A finger pointed at Roan Kir 's weaponry and gear. " You are fortunate that you did not harm yourself stepping into my perimeter or no doubt, very well trained. Was this pack of any value to you?" He asked unsure what to make of this apparent hunter. Her energy bow drew his eye. There is a weapon I would love to handle for myself.

 

[Roan Kir]

At the mention of creature handling, a single brow rose under the cover of Roan’s visor. Was that what all of this had been, then? One big show of creature handling? Were these strills already domesticated?

Judging by the aruetii’s questions, he was experiencing similar confusion. The strills didn’t belong to her any more than the snow beneath her boots did. As far as she was concerned, they belonged only to the mountains. That was, until this stranger had come along and proven his worth as their new master.

“No,” Roan answered shortly. “I was trailing them, hoping they’d lead me to some prey.”

In some manner of speaking, they’d succeeded in doing so. Their noses had led them to a sort of feast for themselves. They may have ended up getting themselves caught, but Roan believed she’d gotten the short end of the stick. Now she’d be made to find another group of strills on the hunt or go about finding and tracking prey without the assistance of the wildlife.

“Looks like they only succeeded in leading me to another hunter. You mentioned creature handling. Do you intend to train them?”

Ninurta Slaabur'r

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

“No,” Roan answered shortly. “I was trailing them, hoping they’d lead me to some prey.”

In some manner of speaking, they’d succeeded in doing so. Their noses had led them to a sort of feast for themselves. They may have ended up getting themselves caught, but Roan believed she’d gotten the short end of the stick. Now she’d be made to find another group of strills on the hunt or go about finding and tracking prey without the assistance of the wildlife.

“Looks like they only succeeded in leading me to another hunter. You mentioned creature handling. Do you intend to train them?”

Ah. So hunting it was.

" Trail a pack of Strill's. Let nature do the work and you read its omens." he nodded deeply at the female hunter. Her tactics and cunning were worth much respect in his eyes. Any hunter, vode or not, was more than welcome in his company. As long as they knew their place. " I am Ninurta of Clan Mudhorn." he introduced himself and gave a hard pat to the side to one of the Strills that insisted on rubbing against his leg. " Nature often does have other plans." he began inspecting the creatures around him. Looking for signs of disease, infection or injury. " Indeed. They will be trained. Strills are loved by many and in high demand for our-" He paused and looked up at the huntress again briefly.

I was assuming she was Mandalorian. As if he had a question, but he only continued on. " Culture."

Ninurta overstood the sentiment of potentially losing prey. In a way, he may of been responsible for her loss.

" You would honor me, If you companied me back to my camp. After these mutts are placed on my ship. I may be able to assist you in finding new prey." He proposed and then faced her once more before grinning under his helmet and taking a step back. It was after all how he would want to be treated. With a decision to make and no pressure to make introduction.

Everything came in time.

Tag: Roan Kir

 

[Roan Kir]

Clan Mudhorn? Roan was, admittedly, unfamiliar with the name. However, judging by Ninurta’s talents, his clan was likely a force to be reckoned with in its own right.

As he answered her question, she shifted her gaze to the strills near his legs. They were the picture of tranquility as he looked them over. Their eyes no longer gleamed with insatiable hunger and their noses weren’t scrunched up in a fearsome snarl. These strill, which were only just plucked straight out of the wilds, were behaving better than some of the younger strills that belonged to Clan Kir.

“They’ll make fine companions,” Roan told him. “The Staghnauk Mountains breed only the toughest stock.”

She looked back at Ninurta then, giving a small tilt of her head at the offer he extended. Some part of her brain immediately began warning her about wandering off with a stranger–especially one who did not appear to be from the area. There was another part of her, though, that was rather curious about him, the strills, and what it would be like to hunt alongside him.

In all her years on Mandalore, Roan had never done anything with someone outside her own clan. She had never hunted or explored with an individual who wasn’t from Clan Kir–and she’d barely held as much as five conversations with those outside her clan. She seldom even bothered making chit chat with the Mandalorians from the allied clans, much to her mother’s chagrin.

So, although it was something she had never done before, Roan folded her arms in front of her chest and nodded once.

“Roan of Clan Kir,” she introduced herself plainly. “I’ll accept your invitation, Ninurta. I’m interested in seeing your camp. How long have you been here?”

Ninurta Slaabur'r

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

“They’ll make fine companions,” Roan told him. “The Staghnauk Mountains breed only the toughest stock.”

Ninurta chuckled at the statement. That was what he had heard time and time again. Staghnauk Mountains indeed had a reputation. " Heheh. That they will." These strills were easily the biggest the falleen had seen in a long time. There was something about the environment in Staghnauk that caused the fauna grow larger in size.

He was very curious what it was.

Noticing Roan nod, the Falleen turned his back and began to lead the way. And as Ninurta walked so did the Strill's in tandem. Their movements close to his own. Literally. On several occasions the beasts walked into him or seemed to push him to the left and right. They were herding him as if he was their pup and rather protective of the beast master too.

A duo of the feral strills, although never leaving their new masters side, darted a look back to Roan Kir and growled lowly. A shove of Ninurta's hand was enough to correct the behavior and redirect the attention back to himself.

“Roan of Clan Kir,” she introduced herself plainly. “I’ll accept your invitation, Ninurta. I’m interested in seeing your camp. How long have you been here?”

The clan name Kir repeated in his head over and over, But alas Ninurta did not know it.

Kir. Kir. Kir.

Hmm.

" Keep your distance." He warned in a gentle tone. " I have been up here for roughly 5 rotations." he stated and began to follow a invisible path that led through large brush and trees before opening up to a plateau. Large wide and snowed on. Toward the edge of the landmark there was a very large snow covered structure. No, not snow covered. It only looks like snow. A camouflaged tarp like fabric that stretched over every part of his ship. A HCT-2001 Dragonboat with 7 cargo modules attached.

Nodding ahead Ninurta gestured to the destination in front of them.
" I have never heard of Clan Kir. Where do you hail from?"

Tag: Roan Kir

 

[Roan Kir]

Roan started after Ninurta without saying another word. She kept her wits about her as she walked, her eyes moving back and forth between the other Mandalorian and the strills that were hot on his heels. There was no active threat, but she couldn't stop certain parts of her mind from treating this foreign situation like something dangerous. Her brain was still operating under the assumption that she was on a solo hunting expedition--and in some manner of speaking, she still was.

This encounter was merely a detour. In time, she would return to Laamyc Morut to receive an earful from her mother about her extended absence. Then, she would turn in the spoils of her hunt and lend a hand with skinning and butchering the creature. Maybe she would even dedicate a bit of her time to familiarizing herself with a few of the clan's strills.

Until then, she continued after Ninurta, lifting an eyebrow at the strill that dared to growl at her. Once Ninurta brought the strill's focus back onto him and mentioned that he'd been in the area for five rotations, Roan's gaze followed. She could see his camp coming into view over his shoulder, but more importantly, she could see his starship.

It wasn't particularly often that ships flew past or over the Staghnauk Mountains. Visibility was often poor and the winds could get strong enough to knock around fairly decent-sized ships. As such, Roan had only ever seen a small handful of starships at a generous distance. To see such a massive vehicle within a few paces of her was mind-boggling—nearly enough to make her stop in her tracks.

Instead, she took in the view while she could, clearing her throat before she spoke. "I was born and raised here in the mountains, the same as every warrior in Clan Kir. The Staghnauks have been our home since the clan's inception."

As they approached Ninurta's ship, she reached out to run her good hand along the metal hull. Touching something that had ventured through space was strange. It made Roan wonder what kind of stories the vehicle would tell if it could speak. Fortunately, she was quite comfortable in assuming that Ninurta could tell the stories that his starship could not—though she figured those questions could wait until she knew more about the man himself.

"I can't say I've heard much of Clan Mudhorn," Roan admitted. "Do you come from Mandalore?"

Ninurta Slaabur'r

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

"I was born and raised here in the mountains, the same as every warrior in Clan Kir. The Staghnauks have been our home since the clan's inception."

As they approached Ninurta's ship, she reached out to run her good hand along the metal hull. Touching something that had ventured through space was strange. It made Roan wonder what kind of stories the vehicle would tell if it could speak. Fortunately, she was quite comfortable in assuming that Ninurta could tell the stories that his starship could not—though she figured those questions could wait until she knew more about the man himself.

"I can't say I've heard much of Clan Mudhorn," Roan admitted. "Do you come from Mandalore?"

This was not the first time he had seen someone act as Roan Kir did. How cautious she was, how she approached his ship and touched it. It was a hint at her age. Young. Very young. The Falleen for a moment did not answer and merely gazed back at the huntress before continuing on to one of the Cargo bay doors. Easily large enough to fit a adolescent rancor.

With a hiss the door lowered and what was revealed inside was nothing short of a miniature zoo. Felines, Cainines, Reptiles, large mammals and even insects were littered across the bay. The entire container made for a 2nd enviorment. Lush with fungi, miniature trees and vines and even some type of flesh like dirt that covered the bay floor. It teemed with life and was more than enough for the Strills to enter in an explore.

They seemed to go right where they needed and then were systematically locked into durasteel cages. As soon as the cages were locked and escape was zero, the glint in their eyes and very demeanor changed to a savage primal state just as they were before being near Ninurta.

" Clan Mudhorn was founded long long ago. Its founder has quite the legend behind him. Or so the tale goes. A father and his son against the galaxy. I personally do not come from Mandalore. I have never much cared for this rock outside of tradition. Too much has happened here. It needs to be forgotten." He said bluntly and then turned to face Roan.

" The way to approached my ship and ran your hand against it. I can only assume you have never left Mandalore. Have you ever been off world?"

 

[Roan Kir]

The outside of Ninurta's ship had been staggering enough on its own, but the inside was like walking into another world. Roan's steps were slow and cautious as she ascended the ramp behind him, her head on a constant swivel as she surveyed the area. There were creatures she'd never even seen occupying the ship's interior. Roan could hardly believe her eyes.

It was strange to think these beasts had seen so much more of the galaxy than she ever had. Did they even know just how far they'd been from the places they knew? Roan eyed them curiously before placing her attention on the strills as they entered their cages. When the doors were locked, they returned to their rowdy state of being, and she wondered how it was possible for Ninurta to make them behave so well in the first place.

Whatever his secret was, it was a mystery for another time. Roan was more interested in hearing about Clan Mudhorn, and she listened closely as Ninurta offered a bit of background. More than anything, it was surprising to find out that he cared little for Mandalore. The planet had a storied history, sure, but she found herself biting her tongue to prevent herself from vocalizing her disagreement. Her jaw only relaxed when Ninurta posed a question of his own at her.

"I haven't," she said. "The mountains are all I've ever known. That is the way of my people."

An admission--one never before verbalized--danced on the tip of her tongue. As she stood in the middle of a starship, it felt more attainable than ever. All that was left to do was ask, but Roan couldn't bring herself to. The mere thought of doing so felt too revealing, too personal. Instead, she shifted the focus back onto Ninurta.

"Where do you come from, if not Mandalore?"

Ninurta Slaabur'r