Slavering Jaws (Slave Raid - OPEN)

[Ashin Varanin]

Five Trandoshan dropships touched down outside a port in the Outer Rim. Each ship's prow and spine reared up on hydraulics, high out of the dust clouds. From one boat's rising bridge, Cradossk looked out over the starport and found himself hungry.

He didn't need to give an order: his crew of Trandoshan mercenaries and slavetakers spilled into the outskirts of town. They favored thick knives, Stouker concussion rifles, and ACP shieldcutter shotguns - traditional Trandoshan weapons. They also carried stunrods and neuronic whips, because today's excursion was more about collecting merchandise than about sending a message.

Hefting a stun rifle of his own, Cradossk licked his incisors and disembarked. A good haul of slaves could earn his crew a month's worth of operating capital, maybe more. Plenty of money and stories to send home to Trandosha, and maybe meat too.

The starport looked a lot like Most Eisley, right down to dust, rust, and diverse aliens. Some might be better suited for capture and sale. Cradossk trusted his people to make those judgments and bring appropriate force to bear.

 

[Vee Toa(Hutt Rep)]

Toa had just gotten out side of his office and noticed the thing walking up towards Mos Eisley "I will take 5!"

 

[Azimuth Industries]

GILES



"So 'ere I am, out in the Outs, eating a few thou', all because he decided to turn left around the asteroid when I thought he would go right. A right mess, wot."

A be-goggled Trandoshan gestured wildly with a Golan flechette launcher as he regaled several disinterested Ugnaught mechanics, whose primary focus seemed to be on the task of repairing an obscene amount of damage to the port side of a freighter. Giles' freighter, to be precise (Giles being the gesticulating T'doshok, but you already knew that didn't you, you clever dog).

One of the Ugs turned around, a welding mask obscuring her features, and stared at him through the eye slit. "Eh? I thought you said he hit you with a seismic charge?"

"Oh, that too I suppose," Giles scratched his chin with a claw and glanced out into the thoroughfare, scaly brows rose at what they saw. "Well now, I say."

[member="Cradossk"] | [member="Vee Toa"]

 

[Culver Yardley]

Culver had made a killing by capturing some pirates that were terrorizing the locals and was given a handsome award. He had stayed to make sure none of the pirates started coming back, to be honest, Culver couldn't give a rat's shebs about the locals safety. In fact, when he captured the pirates, about 7 locals were killed in the firefight. Culver didn't even put an effort to keep the civilians out of the fight, but he was paid by the port nonetheless. His HUD system gave him a warning...

"Picking up several Trandoshan drop ships that has arrived without clearance. Danger recommendation....Level 5."

Culver ordered the suit...

"Begin loading weapon systems. Maybe I can get some extra cash."

Culver started walking towards where the enemy's signature showed best, however Trandoshan signatures were cold-blooded and interfered with the heat-signature module. His metal suit clomped heavily as he moved and his weapon systems program started making heavily powered noises.

Sheb - Mandalorian swear for "buttocks"

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Vee Toa"] | [member="Cradossk"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

A squad of Trandoshan slavers examined [member="Vee Toa"] and concluded that, while he might be a potential customer, he also looked wealthy enough to be worth a ransom. "Five it is," one growled, and fired a stun gun five times in Lord Toa's general direction.

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"] [member="Culver Yardley"]

The port town offered a diverse sensory experience: the scent of bantha meat and Ugnaughts, the sight of a fellow Trandoshan in goggles, and the sounds of unusual accents and power armor. Cradossk, at the head of a dozen brothers-in-arms, eyed Giles and the erstwhile freighter.

"These apes yours?"

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Every mechanic stopped moving.

Nictating membranes slid nervously over Giles' eyeballs, then back again. 'Twas reasons like this he wore the goggles, although their multi-target acquisition system was also nice. He casually rested his flechette gun on his shoulder.

"Yes, yess." Lengthen the S. Put a little hiss into it. Gah, he'd been gone from Trandosha too long. Blast. "These are my apes."

He patted one of the Ugnaughts on the head.

"Out for a score, praise the Keeper?"

[member="Cradossk"] | [member="Vee Toa"] | [member="Culver Yardley"]

 

[Vee Toa(Hutt Rep)]

Lord Toa was impressed, he had wondered how these Trandoshans got so many Slaves. "I appreciate it, But I have to ask, how did you get so many slaves?"

 

[Mara Lux'stati]

This mission was supposed to be a blue milk run.

The boss had a contact that needed to be met. She'd come out, gotten the info, and was just wanting to get out of the system. Another milk run. Another puzzle piece for him. The data spike was quickly buried into her pocket as she listened. ships, blaster fire, screams. The sounds of an attack. She didn't know what it was, but they were by the spaceport. By her ship.

There was a chance she could slip through their lines, Get to the ship, run whatever blockade they may have. It seemed unlikely. Maybe she could do it, and maybe she could get by, but there was a risk of loosing the information. No, that wasn't happening. Maybe if she saved it? No, she'd need time. Time she didn't have.

That left the only other option. Mara began to sprint away from the sounds of guns and laughs and screams. Twelve minutes. She just needed twelve minutes. Maybe she could buy that time.

[member="Cradossk" [member="Vee Toa"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] [member="Culver Yardley"]

 

[Culver Yardley]

Culver walked closer to the highest cluster of signatures and saw numerous Trandoshans there. Trandoshan dropships and a freighter was the first he saw. Culver then recognized an individual that did not belong, a Moogan named Vee Toa. He had seen Vee Toa posted numerous bounties before and is well known to be rich. As Culver got closer, he also saw ugnaughts and more Trandoshans. Culver asked his suit...

"Give me a situation recommendation."

The suit replied in a message in his HUD display...

"Recommendation: Further observe actions...Do not engage."

"Nah, that's too boring I am going to go in and wing it."

"Message: Fark you...Can't believe you are still alive."

Culver had his wrist ready and was prepared to fire a rocket shot at any second. The HUD display began reading his stress levels rising and his heartbeat increasing. The scene was getting tense, he didn't have a backup plan and was completely outnumbered. He could only hope to talk to them or kill them. When he was in sight to the group he yelled out...

"Hello, my large scaly friends. What are you all doing on this poor junk planet?"

[member="Mara Lux'stati"] | [member="Vee Toa"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Cradossk"]

 

[Vee Toa(Hutt Rep)]

[member="Culver Yardley"][member="Mara Lux'stati"][member="Bareesh Kajidic"]@Cradossk Vee Toa, recognized some, but some he didn't recognize, one he recognized was Culver, "Hello, you might not remember who I am, but I think you gave me my bounty If I am not mistaken!"

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven's ship scuttled into the outer rim of the star port and slowly came to a shuddering halt on the deck. The Jedi quickly powered it down, as to not call attention to it, and stepped out from the craft. His broad saber's two hilts swung from his hips, ready to be assembled at any moment, and his battle scarred, and hardened face was set in a determined, and firm expression as he began to make his way towards the commotion. The knight had been in the outer skirts of the universe searching for potential force users, and this star port had been on his list to stop and check into, now with the commotion he sensed up ahead, Draven had to wonder if he was going to perhaps find a very different sort of person awaiting him.

 

[Karsan Munin]

There was a distinct sound that Mandalorian armor made, the plates moving along the fabric of the flightsuit- jingling. Like spurs, almost. And people tended to move when someone heard that sound.

The man walking down the street was none other than Karsan Calnov, one of the bastard children of Strider Garon. And he was here on a personal vendetta. Across his chest, held loosely by a sling, was a box-fed, 150-round slugthrowing light machine gun. Across his belt were three other boxes of ammunition. He had plenty of ammo in which to start a party.

He was coming into view of the Trandoshans.

He only rested a single hand on the stock of the weapon, but made no other such moves. He was almost a hundred meters away, give or take. The T-shape visor stared daggers into each of the Trandoshans very souls as he approached.

Karsan began to whistle.

[member="Cradossk"] l [member="Vee Toa"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

This part of town was getting downright crowded. Some struck Cradossk as unprofitable - the kind of people who'd fetch a good price but cost way too much to take, in lives and gear. If those individuals started shooting, though, there'd be no option but to try for capture.

For the moment, Cradossk focused on Giles. The flechette gun meant business, and messing with another Trandoshan's slaves wouldn't go over well in the crew. "Might want to get them indoors," he hissed, grinning. "Nasty night ahead."

[member="Culver Yardley"] had yelled out, wore power armor, and was closer than the Mando. "Just simple business," Cradossk called back. Come to think of it, that armor looked highly valuable. Stun guns and the odd EMP grenade might be enough to short circuit it without too much damage. In the meantime, friendliness.

Meanwhile, the other Trandoshans fanned out, dragging the occasional new slave into the dropships. Neuronic whips snapped out a pleasant rhythm.

[member="Karsan Calnov"] [member="Draven Dursden"] [member="Vee Toa"] [member="Mara Lux'stati"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven muttered a almost silent curse to himself as he came into view of the slaves being divided up and shoved off. The knight really wished he had not come across such a scene, and halted just behind the massive suit of armor which had called out to its, "Friends". His strong, and yet surprisingly boyish voice said, "Howdy friend. Seems that we have had the unfortunate luck of coming across a slave trade transaction." The jedi then crossed his arms and continued to examine the scene, he was surely outnumbered. To draw a saber alone against such odds would be suicide, but his mind roared with rage. Inside he was a whirlwind of anger, and his struggle to maintain peace was put to the test more than ever. Images of his time while enslaved flashed through his mind, and idly, almost unconsciously, the knight rubbed his upper right pectoral where the brand of his previous slaver master had been etched. He would not let these slaves go.

The Jedi began to approach the rapidly fanning out troops, his light, but durable armor snug against his well maintained figure, the jedi was certainly glad he had worn it. He had really considered not, but his judgement had screamed otherwise. Not the first time instinct had saved him, so he rapidly began to cross the no man's land, both arms raised in a gesture of peace, "What brings you fellows to this place?" He calls out, his demeanor relaxed and lithe, like a panther ready to spring once he got close. His hands itched to feel the hilts of his broad sabers, the dark sides seductive power beckoning to him, begging him to use it, to release and give in to the anger. But Draven's training said otherwise. His inner strength allowed the jedi to remain calm, and stay action, perhaps the slavers would give up once they realized the stature of their foe. Not likely, but maybe. And at least then he could say he tried to do it the diplomatic way.
[member="Cradossk"] [member="Karsan Calnov"] [member="Vee Toa"][member="Culver Yardley"][member="Mara Lux'stati"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

No fewer than seven Trandoshan slavers focused on [member="Draven Dursden"] - six with a snarl, five stun grenades, four hissed profanities, three neuronic whips, two concussion rifles, and a partridge in a pear tree.

The goal here was to wear down and knock out the man with the lightsabers, then sell him and his lightsabers on the open market. Maybe the Jedi would pay to get him back; maybe the Sith would pay more.

 

[Draven Dursden]

With a shocked "Oh" The Jedi's sabers are noticed, and the weapons fly. He rolls aside as the grenades fly towards his previous position, and using the force, blasts himself through one of the crappy tavern doors of a nearby establishment. He was greeted by a swarm of shocked expressions from aliens of all shapes and sizes. The Knight quickly force blasts a patron away from a nearby table, and picks it up, muscles straining, placing it against the door which he kicks shut. The Jedi then ducks behind the bar, unlatching both sabers and pressing the appropriate button sequence to begin the bonding process.

The saber's hilts begin to meld together, gears clicking and whirring, engines buzzing as they begin to form a much longer hilt, for a much, much longer, and more powerful saber. Draven hisses as the hilt begins to take form, slowly but surely. This was his absolute most weak position, if they busted through the door while the saber was still forming, Draven would be forced to hand to hand combat and brawling, which inevitably would not fare well for the lone, short jedi, against seven other trained mercenaries. The Knight's mind grasped for an escape plan, and his eyes pinned themselves to the deteriorating boarded up wall, if it came to it, he would blast himself through it and into the building next door. The blaster on his belt, in the small of his back, was untouched, but ready to fire if the enemies burst through his make shift blockade. [member="Cradossk"]

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Giles traced a fang with his tongue in thought.

People starting migrating toward the Trandoshans, looking for a fight. Why else would you move toward a bunch of T'doshok? The people in question were a Mandalorian, another guy in power armor, a rambling politico, and a fourth person.

The shooting started pretty much immediately.

Sighing, Giles made up his mind. He reached up and adjusted his goggles.

"Alright little friends, I've got some business to take care of. Just make sure she's ready to take off when I get back and I'll add another 5% just for you three."

The Ugnaughts looked at each other, then shrugged.

Giles smiled, revealing a set of pure white bone pickers. "Guess blood really is thicker than water and what not."

With that he leveled his flechette launcher menacingly in the direction of [member="Karsan Calnov"].

[member="Cradossk"] | [member="Draven Dursden"] | [member="Culver Yardley"] | [member="Vee Toa"]

 

[Culver Yardley]

[member="Draven Dursden"] | [member="Cradossk"]

Culver watched as the Trandoshans tried feebly to catch the Jedi. He glanced at the Jedi then looked at the Trandoshans. Cluver can choose to help either one of them and win a large reward. A drop of sweat from Culver's forehead as he decided who he wanted to help. Culver lifted his dual wrist rockets and pointed them at the Tradoshans and fired. Pffhh Pffhh! Boossfh! Several Trandoshans cried out from the explosions. Culver yelled out...

"Jedi! You better be worth this or I will sell you onto the black market! Burn you overgrown lizards!"

Culver continued to dodge Trandoshan attacks and counter-fired with rockets. He also said...

"You got nothing you Trandoshans! This baby is packet with rockets and I will keep firing till you surrender! Hahahaha!"

 

[Karsan Munin]

Karsan's lips formed into a grin as he yanked the bolt back, chambering a round. He dropped to the ground as the flechette launcher came up towards him. The machine gun's bipods went out with a swipe of Karsan's hand. He was low, to the ground, and had 150 individual thoughts for the man with the flechette launcher.

And he let loose thirty of them, with a long trigger pull. The weapon was a fast-firing system, firing at the cyclic rate. Karsan screamed out a string of obscenities as he let loose a torrent of accurate, angry slugthrower rounds right at the center mass at Giles.

Karsan Calnov had come to play for keeps.

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"] l [member="Draven Dursden"] l @Cradossk

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Draven Dursden"]

The slaver squad outside the bar held back, perhaps giving the Jedi the time he needed. The last thing they needed was to get close to the barricade while a man with a lightsaber was on the other side. Instead, the Trandoshans who owned concussion rifles aimed them at the barricaded door and fired. The door and the table exploded, filling the bar with shrapnel and headaches. Future slaves boiled out of windows and service entrances, and were promptly collared.

Then everyone scattered as [member="Culver Yardley"] started unloading miniature missiles. Things got downright gory. Trandoshans, the younger ones anyway, could regenerate limbs. After today, more than a few would need to. Cradossk lacked the regenerative acumen of the young, and therefore withdrew under cover of explosions. He found himself clutching a half-melted rifle, and discarded it in favor of light ACP repeaters. At the edge of the street, Cradossk took shelter behind a moisture vaporator and started shooting back. The submachine guns' yellow energy blasts pelted Yardley's position, seeking gaps in the powered armour.

Not far away, Giles was squaring off with [member="Karsan Calnov"] - Cradossk stayed as aware as he could afford.