Weekend Treasure Hunt 25: Terrible Hothpitality

[Gorba the Hutt]

Pauul chuckled, lowering his VT-Needler slowly so that the stock no longer caressed his cheek. Looked like even Mandos didn't want to mess with a Guavian Death Gang. Probably because messing with soldiers who had voluntarily traded in their bodies for cybernetic 'enhancements' was pretty off the walls.

A red blinking caught Pauul's attention. He turned. Pawnchee was playing with the activation slide of a thermal detonator. On. Off. On. Off. Blink, blink, blink. This detonator was a Class C model. If it went off the resulting fusion reaction would vaporize them all in an expanding particle field twenty meters wide, scooping out a big chunk of the wreck with it.

"Ey, cut the kowakian business, yeah?"

The Gran's shoulders slumped and he looked down at the blinking sphere will three dull eyes. For a heartbeat he didn't do anything, then with a grumpy bleat he clicked the slide back into the 'safe' mode.

"Fierfek, Punchy. Ye'll give me a pulmonary."

After that little incident, the little squad of murderous-debt-collecting-assassin-treasure-hunters continued on into the interior of the ship, being sure to avoid the way the Mando had gone down.

[member="Pollux"]

 

[Darth Osano]

Location C

[member="Pauul Farrlo"] | Pawnchee | x3 Guavian Security Soldiers

Weapons were lowered now that the Mandalorian scampered off. The rumors of their bravery and suicidal tendencies were greatly exaggerated. The corners of Pollux's mouth twitched. It might have been a smirk, but something killed it before it could fully form. Possibly that he remembered he and the gang were here for very valuable treasure- not to laugh at runaway Mandalorians. Or, as the Rodian and his pet Gran were doing, fiddling around with thermal detonators. Pollux kept hearing the clicking of the activation switch and shot the Gran an empty glare just before Pauul stepped in. Was he going to regret hiring these people? Probably not. There was already too much to worry about on this wreck. Pollux could not afford to start doubting his colleagues.

The farther they went into the ship, the darker it got. Eventually there was no light to see by and the Guavians activated their headlamps. Twisting corridors, gnarled and scorched durasteel, claw marks from when Wampas took up residence some decades ago. It was an interesting scene. Many of the doors they passed were barricaded up. Devin had confessed the treasure would be towards the rear of the ship, so Pollux had little interest in those doors anyway.

Eventually they entered a hangar bay. At least it must have been, judging by how wide open it was and the fact that the outlines of the piles of wreckage were ambiguously starfighter-shaped. Pollux was still no expert on these things. The wrecks had clearly long been relieved of any working or meaningful parts. Otherwise these savages would have left the planet already. The Guavians were not the least bit comfortable with how open the area was, added with the impediment of it being pitch-black. They moved slowly, cautiously, and then ground to an abrupt halt when they heard something else skittering around in the darkness. They started aiming their weapons in every direction, beams of light stabbing outward madly, looking for the source, but so far there was nothing to see.

Pollux frowned. Ostensibly because they were about to be attacked and then Farrlo's subsequent post would get to decide who it was and how many, among other things.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Trash heaps and wreckage made sense to Pauul, way more than the frozen no man's land outside. He knew their ins and outs. What to do and what not to do. You know, like not walking into a wide open hangar bay filled with all sorts of cover for some sort of dry gulch affair.

Unlike the others, Pauul didn't need NVGs in order to see in the darkness. Rodians and their multi-faceted, infrared-seeing eyes had evolved from a nocturnal species. That only meant Pauul spotted them before anyone else.

The wet blanket n' torpedoes could handle themselves, but Bil'gruf was looking the wrong way.

"Punchy, behind you!"

Raising the needler, Pauul squeezed off a shot that tore up the darkness in a brief flash of light, like a fork of lightning, and ripped through the heavy fur coat, skin, and heart of the scavenger, atomizing a thumb-sized hole in its chest. The creature - or man, or whatever - stumbled and fell, pickaxe falling from limp hands to clatter against the ground.

Hideous, wailing screams rose from all around them, soon followed by the sound of feet rushing over durasteel. Five? Ten? No. Dozens.

Blam, blam, blam. Pauul fired away until he'd expended all six shots in the needler. Bodies fell in the front wave, only to be trampled over by those in the rear. They wouldn't have enough ammunition for them all.

The Rodian assassin reached for his silenced blaster pistol, a weapon mean for stealth kills, not open combat. Sort of like himself, actually.

Fortunately, someone in the group had things under control.

An object sailed into the midst of the oncoming horde: a sphere, with a blinking red light.

Beep, beep.

Boom.


[member="Pollux"]

 

[Makai Dashiell]

[member="Rusty"] | [member="Zak Dymo"] | [member="Myra Elspeth"] | Location A


Kneeling down from his location, Makai touched the terminals to the battery, causing the projection to flick to life. Apparently during his call to Arceneau Trade the battery had given enough power to connect through. Flickering image revealed one Myra Elspeth, better known as Ellie to himself. She was wearing some new dress, staring silently at him.


Makai poked his hooded head up into view, scale speckled cheeks red from the cold. The image was flickering in and out and he wasn't too sure what to do. His skills with hobbling things together were still in a shaky, fledgling stage. Nothing like what his Dad or Mr.Zej could do on a daily basis.


"Ellie!" Small puffs of breath into the freezing air. "We're stuck on Hoth. Send help. The ship ain't moving. No power neither. Go tell Miss Arceneau."


Now, how much of the information got scrambled in transit, he wasn't sure.

 

[Gray Raxis]

Location C

Gray typed on the console trying to get the AI to interact back with him. So far he was having no luck with the task, because the AI was being shy or just didn't care so long as nothing was being disturbed. He didn't think a perceived second attack on its files would be a good idea though. That tended to get undesirable results and Gray was no slicer. He knew enough to mess with life support in ships and bypass doors, but he was not good enough to deal with a defend like this AI was. No he needed to take a different approach to this issue. He needed to get it to treat him as a valid user instead of an intruder. But how to do that?

About the time Gray was going to try something new, [member="Katbirye Rekr"] came back around. He seemed eager to move on and being doing something. Seemed the guy wasn't use to dealing with salvage missions at all. They tended to be a little slow paced and slow. But despite that, there was probably something the guy could do to keep his interest and boredom at bay. Gray said as he continued to mess with the computer, " Yeah keep an eye out for enemies. Some are coming our way from the sound of those echos. If you can do that, it would really help out." He went back to his task. This AI could be worth the time investment.

Gray finally decided to just open up a chat window and typed in, Hello. As soon as he had that typed in the following reply popped up in response, Greetings intruder. Now he was getting somewhere. He smiled as he looked at the message. It called him an intruder, but it was talking back to him. That meant he could get somewhere, maybe even to figuring out what was going on here. He got ready to type in something else when he heard an explosion from a different part of the ship. Seemed someone was throwing grenades around the place. That could be good or bad.

[member="Pollux"] [member="Pauul Farrlo"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Yag'dril"] |

Location B

The speeder came to an abrupt stop beside scaffolding that was in a state of disrepair, covered in shoots of ice and stalagmites that would penetrate anyone unlucky to be thrown or pushed in their direction. Powering the vehicle down, Darth Ayra made sure to leave it's heaters on. She didn't know when she would be back and did not want to return to find her only source of transportation back to the Initium was frozen in the barren wastes of the Galaxies best graveyards. Climbing off the speeder, the Sith Lord stood in the snow and ice with the cowl of her robe raised, protecting her exposed face from the cold air, and more importantly, detection. Lifting either hands to the sides of her hood, Darth Ayra kept them there so as to keep it secured as a gust of wind forced to retreat towards the Vehement Sword. Entering through a crevice, Darth Ayra climbed inside.

She found herself in what appeared to be a corridor. It was dark and still cold enough for her breath to rise before her eyes, but at least she was protected from the gusts and falling snow with thanks to the crashed ships walls. She spotted lights and other pieces of compartments in states of disrepair. Some she could tell to be results of the ships original crash, how ever many centuries ago it happened. Others she recognized as having been looted, and again, Darth Ayra briefly wondered how many years it had been since someone had come to loot the craft. Her left hand's shaking quickly brought her back to the present. She begun to walk down the corridor, working on stilling the tremor as it begun. Whilst she could still control her own faculties, she wouldn't allow the Orbalisk's even a moment of victory, as the tremors indicated they were slowly winning the war. Delving deeper into the Vehement Sword, Darth Ayra continued her quest for the cure.

 

[Darth Osano]

Location C

[member="Pauul Farrlo"] | Pawnchee | x3 Guavian Security Soldiers

"Contact!"
"They're everywhere!"

That hadn't taken long. It was better this way, Pollux didn't like to be held in anticipation. All at once the feral salvagers started whooping and hollering their strange, quasi-intelligible battle cries. They echoed ominously through the hangar, but were quickly drowned out as the Guavians started opening fire on anything that was moving towards them. Pollux was not a fighter by trade, but he could use the blaster pistol he had. He squeezed off one shot, which managed to find a home in one of the savages crowding across the hangar and over wreckage piles to get at them.

Not that this was a great demonstration of Pollux's skill with a pistol. There were simply just so many of them that he could have fired in any general direction and probably at least wounded one. With this in mind, Pollux fired a few more shots, but it was clear there were more of them than any amount of ammo could handle. At the least, they would need to find a more defensible position. "Keep moving." Pollux ordered, "Clear a-"

An explosion went off behind them, cutting off a bunch of war cries prematurely. Momentarily dazzled by the display of destructive ordnance and the fact that at least a half dozen of their colleagues had just been atomized, the savages hesitated. "Forward." Pollux had no intention of leaving here without the loot promised. If a few Guavians had to die along the way, so be it. They were being paid for this; they knew the risks. So did the Rodian and the Gran.

The Guavians focused their fire on the savages in front of them, mowing a few more of them down and causing them to break ranks. There would, hopefully, be an exit on the other side of the hangar. Pollux's plot-based intuition told him as much, and so the group continued forward quickly.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

[member="Makai Dashiell"]

There was an expression of expectation upon the little girl's face. One that quickly faded as Makai's image crackled and broke.

[ "Elli---'re stu-... Hoth. Se.... The ship ain't mov--...wer neither. G--...eneau." ]

The twin slashes of brown would furrow and pinch. Why wasn't it working? A mix of frustration grew and she gave the array a few taps as if that would make the transmission clear.

It didn't.

What was it that he said? Hoth? What was Hoth? Wait, what about the ship? Her cherub mouth fell open and shut as frustration grew and turned her face a pale pink. Gestures of the hands came up, a shake of her head to say that she didn't understand.

Why wouldn't this thing work?!

 

[Micah tol Powl]

| Location A
| The [member="Jorus Merrill"] School of Space Driving, Hoth Campus

"What's a Danger Ark-a-no?"

Still rubbing at his head, where a dark spot marked a new bruise from the commlink bouncing off his head, the young Nautolan padded his way to where Makai was working on the ship's comm unit.

Repeating back what he'd thought he'd heard Makai talking about, the boy was left to wonder. Just what was a [member="Danger Arceneau"]? Was it a ship? A planet? Maybe a local convenience store with lots of Cookie Cats or Lion Lickers? Zak could kinda go for a Lion Licker right now...

Now, maybe most people would associate frozen treats with places like Hoth. But it was actually genius. See, normally you couldn't eat a whole popsicle without it melting all over your hand. But on a planet like Hoth? That ice cream or frozen juice was gonna stay frozen no matter what!

As he walked up from behind the boy, the young Nautolan craned his head back to see an image of a girl flickering on the comm. "Hey! You got it working!" the boy chimed brightly, in awe at the fact that the busted comm unit was working.

Man, Non-Force kids had all the skills.

[member="Makai Dashiell"]​

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Yag'dril"] |

Location B

Bringing her Lightsaber into the cold air, Darth Ayra thumbed it's ignition and watched as ruby red engulfed the dark hallways. Moving away from the light outside and deeper into the ship, the Sith Lord found herself submerged into darkness. Using her weapon as her only light source, Ayra continued to follow the bow of her ship, keeping her wits about her as she walked. She was aware that the ship she walked in was derelict and had been so for several centuries. As a result, it was entirely plausible that she could trigger a landslide of snow or enter a part of the ship that had become weakened by the elements, resulting in a cave in.

Suddenly, Darth Ayra stopped. She hadn't felt it at first, consumed by the ever constant pain that had wracked her for the past few months and her desire to find the cure. But danger was the one constant element of surprise that Darth Ayra was well versed in, having spent most of her life dealing and trading with the types of individuals who sought to kill her kind. Jedi and sympathizers to the light side, who would otherwise seek to destroy and undermine her if they knew who she truly was.

Turning, Darth Ayra was met by a creature she had never seen before. But she recognized what it was. Claws as sharp as knifes; a jaw that could shred durasteel; and arms that could crush her in an instant, given it's size and assumed strength. The Wampa released a roar, ready to devour the strange alien that stood before it and driven by it's predatory instincts lunged itself at the Sith Lord who had dared enter it's cave.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location C

[member="Pollux"]

Moving fast as they could through the swarm of pikers, the group of what could ostensibly be called Aggressive Debt Collectors desperately struggled to reach the exit. Pauul didn't have time to change out the magazine on his needler. He drew his pistol.

Two scavengers lunged for him, wielding knives, their faces bunched up in savage snarls. The Rodian put an invisible bolt of energy through the throat of the first one, staggering him. The piker clutched a hand to his neck and fell back among the throng of scavengers, blood spurting from between his fingers. One down, dozens more to- agh!

The second scavenger had managed to seize hold of Pauul's arm in a grip so hard he wondered how she'd managed to fit an industrial-grade docking clamp onto her wrist. Pauul squeezed the trigger in a frenzy, missing once before hitting her in the shoulder. A blast of superheated steam rose from the wound and small flames sprang up all around fur coat at the site of the blaster shot.

A flash of ice cold shot up through Pauul's stomach and he gave a gasping curse. He could feel the length of crudely sharpened metal inside him, then it scraped against his last rib as she tried to pull it out. Pauul nearly fell unconscious.

Pawnchee stepped in and delivered a single punch to her jaw, decking her instantly. The Gran pushed Pauul along toward the exit. They could see it now, in the dark. Pauul glanced down to see how bad he'd been got.

Oh.

He shouldn't have done that. The hilt of the knife stuck from his body like some sort of weird plant growth.

"Punchy," he whispered.

The Gran turned, seized his entire belt of thermal detonators, set the switch, then he tossed the belt like a bolo right into the middle of the oncoming swarm.

 

[Yag'dril]

[member="Darth Ayra"]

Location B

She could feel it now and there was something else. Yag rolled over while she moved out of sight and the way to adjust the outfit she had. Feeling the dream silk that had been synthweaved with the mesh and the circlet able to protect her from the weather. She finished adjusting herself and rolled over a little coming out of her area when she pushed deeper into the pathway following the trail away from the ship when she felt something. there and around all of them. This seemed like a dangerous path to follow with her force energies going out until she stopped wrapping around a rock and pushing herself up to find a small ice ledge she could look down and move through some of the crevices to avoid detection from sight with her body blending in.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

[member="Zak Dymo"] | [member="Myra Elspeth"] | Location A


Freezing cold, Makai wondered if his hands would freeze to the wires he was trying to hold onto the battery to boost the power. Fuzzy, grainy Ellie was coming in-and-out of the communications, Makai getting enough reading to see the girl throw her hands up in frustration. She either wasn't understanding he was stuck on Hoth or the communication was breaking up.


"Stuck on Hoth" He said more simply, hoping stuck or Hoth would make it through the transmission.


It was then Zak came in, asking who or what [member="Danger Arceneau"] was. Keeping his hand on the connections, he glanced back at his aquatic friend. Hopefully the fact that Zak was in the communications area with him as a good sign Mr.Merrill was somewhat alive and well.


"Miss Arceneau is my friend....So is Ellie...she doesn't understand we're STUCK ON HOTH. STUCK!."


Makai sighed.


"I don' think I did a good job of fixin' this....I still don't know a lot."

 

[Micah tol Powl]

| Location A
| The [member="Jorus Merrill"] School of Space Driving, Hoth Campus

The sigh betrayed a sense of frustration.

That bewildered the young Nautolan, who looked over at his friend in confusion as he heard the smaller boy talk about how he hadn't done that good of a job. Head-tails drooping slightly, the green youngling looked from Makai to the comm unit that was obviously powered and lit... then back to Makai.

Was he serious?

Pouncing forward, the small amphibian threw his arms around the other boy in a playful tackle-hug. "Are you kidding?" Zak chirped brightly, giving the other youngling a fierce squeeze before he popped back and held both arms out to indicate the flickering image. "This is AMAZING!"

Planting his hands on his hips, the young Nautolan gave a firm nod of his head in total affirmation of that statement. After all, Zak was amazing and, thus, and expert on the subject. And in his awesome expert opinion of awesomeness... this was definitely awesome. "...I mean, there's a girl on the screen. But other than that..." the boy added, with a shrug.

Hey, it was a working comm unit. Beggars couldn't be choosers, right?

Unless they could be choosers. In which case, he'd vote for calling Thurion 'Grandmaster Bad Mama Jama' Heavenshield. Because he was a bad mother-shut your mouth. And a boy.

Amazing how often those two went together.

The sound of something, like thunder, echoed through the ship. The Nautolan's head-tails perked up, his black eyes seeming to scan the ceiling as though trying to decide whether that had been the weather... or something else.

[member="Makai Dashiell"]​

 

[Gray Raxis]

Location C

Gray was pleased to see a message from the AI. It was willing to communicate with him, and that could help him out right now more than anything else. He thought a moment of how he wanted to play this out then got onto the computer terminal and began to type on it.

" My name is Gray. Do you have a name?"
" No I do not Intruder Gray. Why are you here? Thieves will be met with extreme prejudice."
" I am not here to steal anything, others seem to be doing that. I am here to help you out. Would you mind if I call you Words?"
" Intruder Gray is welcome to call me what ever it likes. If it is here to help then prove so."
" What would you have me do Words?"
" Intruder Gray will head to my server room and remove the pests that are attempting to break in as well as any pest along the way."
" It will be done. I look forward to helping you out Words."
" As it says. A map will be provided for Intruder Gray."

A small chip popped out of a nearby computer. Gray walked over to it and pulled it out. It was a data chip, so he pulled out a data pad. He pushed the chip into the data pad and a map of the facility as well as the route to getting to the server showed up. It was older, but seemed to be working fine. He could see he was going to go over half way down the ship to get to the server and take a few twists and turns to get to it. He put the pad up and began to head towards the server room. It seemed chatting with the AI was worth it, especially since he was not being aggressive or hostile towards it.

 

[Darth Osano]

Location C

[member="Pauul Farrlo"] | Pawnchee | x2 Guavian Security Soldiers

There were too many of them, to put it simply. How many scavengers had gotten stranded in this wreck, exactly? None of them had been able to call for help before going... Feral? How did so many people go feral, anyway? There wasn't one scavenger in the bunch who couldn't jury rig a distress beacon emitter and call for help from literally any of the inhabited planets nearby? Lots of people apparently knew about this wreck and no one tried to launch a rescue expedition after seeing so many people get stranded?

Well, one of them was trying to hack open Pollux with an ice-pick, so the Givin supposed that this line of questioning could wait for another time. The scavenger came to fast, knocking Pollux's pistol away from him and bringing the pick down with lethal force. Pollux managed to grab the scavenger's wrist before he could do anything life threatening, and they struggled like that for a minute before Pollux gave up trying to wrest the ice-pick out of the scavenger's hands and decided to headbutt him.

The benefit of having your skeleton be all exo is that this course of action didn't pain Pollux terribly. The scavenger, on the other hand, got a far off look in his eyes. Blood ran from his nose, his grip slacked. The second headbutt was enough to get rid of him entirely, and now Pollux had an ice-pick all to himself and was no worse for wear. Another scavenger happened to see what happened and started swinging a club at him. Pollux, by no means, was supposed to be very good at close quarters combat. He instinctively leaned back, narrowly avoiding the club that was swung at him.

Likewise, he did not know very much about how to use an ice-pick to fight people. But he figured his best bet was to stick the person with the pointy end, probably in the neck or head. So Pollux grunted something unintelligible and swung hardly. It stuck in the scavenger's neck with a sickening squelch. Pollux left it there, instead deciding to keep on moving for the exit. He saw one of the Guavians, probably the one who had been on point, get swarmed by half a dozen of the scavengers. Poor man tried to reload instead of going for his side arm.

Punchy and the Rodian weren't doing much better. Another group of scavengers were going to charge them all at once, so this time the Gran threw an entire belt of thermal detonators. Even if Pollux hadn't dove to the ground, the resulting blast would have knocked him off his feet anyway. The scavengers who weren't incinerated (and there were decidedly few) were also tossed back or scattered. Pollux ignored the ringing in his ears, pushing himself off the ground.

Pollux did his best, pulling up one of the remaining Guavians and pointing at Pauul. "Carry the Rodian. Keep moving." Clearly it would have been easier to leave the Rodian and his Gran pal, but if Pollux abandoned people on these kinds of missions nobody would want to work for him. Besides, the Gran might have lobbed a grenade at them and Pollux didn't want to be on the receiving end after what just happened.

 

[Gray Raxis]

Location C

Gray followed the path directed by his datapad towards the server room that contained all of the data for the ship as well as housed the AI. He wondered what he might be able to find of use by helping the crashed ship's AI. Maybe some coordinates to a forgotten supply stash or some kind of lost, buried treasure? More than likely he would get a thank you and some kind of minor thing like an old blaster or ring. The real point of this trip now was not so much to gain salvage as it was to try to secure the wreck and obtain whatever information he could. He might come back here another time after all.

As he traveled forward, Gray began to hear the sounds of battle. Blaster fire and explosions echoed throughout the hallway. He put his datapad away and began to rush to the location of conflict. He found a group of people, likely the one his lost friend had run into earlier, that were now overrun by feral salvagers. He drew his revolver from his right hip and shifted it to his left hand then drew his lightsaber. He didn't active it yet, but began to aim and take shots at the ferals when he knew his shots wouldn't hit the others. This seemed to get some of their attention, and pulled them away from the group. He quickly ran out of his first round of ammo, so he tossed the revolver near his right leg and used the force to holster it. As he did, he ignited the dark blue blade of his saber and rushed the feral beings with force enhanced speed.

Gray yelled out as he rushed forward, " Scatter or die!!!!" He crashed into the first set of ferals, and quickly cut the knife wielding savages down. His words plus the sound of his freshly cut down victim's screaming seemed to finally get the attention more of the ferals and they turned to look at him. As they did this, Gray threw his lightsaber towards them horizontally with the force to guide it. It cut down several of them while not being close enough to harm the group of debt collectors. He pulled his saber back and got ready for any advance that might follow his move. He yelled out as he kept his eyes on the enemy, " Can yall hold your ground or do I need to do something more distracting?" He just waited for their reply before he decided on his next move. Things were going to get interesting it seemed.

[member="Pollux"] [member="Pauul Farrlo"]

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

[member="Zak Dymo"] [member="Makai Dashiell"]


[ --tuck. On. H-- ]

Myra was aghast at the terrible reception. Makai's visage was coming in and out, and every second that passed without her getting a clear idea what he was saying frustrated her even more. By the time the half Galan managed to enunciate 'Stuck. On. Hoth.' by repeating it over and over many times, the little girl was as red as a cherry and about to pop. Her brows were crunched forward, her mouth pinched tight, and the frustration enough to almost bring her to tears.

One second Makai would catch her staticy image, the next she was gone. The tiny pitter patter of rushing feet would take the youngling over towards her adoptive mother's bedroom. She'd be able to fix it!

Mister Tugglers, her constant companion, followed her in a quick trot, the black claws making a clickity, click click sound against the polished wood floors.

 

[Darth Ayra]

| [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Yag'dril"] |

The Wampa charged at the Dark Lord with such ferocity and speed, that Ayra couldn't lift her Lightsaber in time to defend herself. Instinctively, she put her arm in the way of the Wampa as it swiped at her. Such a reflex was illogical, considering the claws that the beast wielded. Expecting to see her arm be completely cleaved from her elbow, Ayra was instead launched in a flip, as she was taken off her feet by the blow. As she landed, Darth Ayra pivoted and rolled backwards, surprised and relieved at the same time that her arm was still in place. How was still intact she did not know, but she decided that she would discover why later.

Roaring again, the Wampa drove forward with the same charge that had caught it's prey off guard the first time. But Ayra was ready for it this time. Before it could close in, Darth Ayra summoned the dark side in it's most twisted and lethal form- Force Lightning- which darted out of her fingertips and into the beasts body. Instantly, the purple streaks begun to tear themselves into the creature, severing bone, tissue and nerves from the layers of muscle that made up the Wampa's corporal form. It sunk to it's knees, no longer roaring out of some predatory instinct to devour Ayra, but now in pain. Darth Ayra's eyes were lit up in the dark corridor, lightened up by the lightning that poured forward from her fingers and she found that her pain was reflected in the Wampa's cries and roars for mercy. It was as if the Orbalisks themselves were devouring the beast now through the Dark Lord's powers. A sick, twisted satisfaction took over Ayra as she continued her attack. Soon enough, the Wampa became still and silent. Only it's corpse and the smell of burning flesh was all that remained of it.

She did not want to stop, but alas, forced herself to dissipate the lightning and lower her palm. As she did, smoke rose from the corpse that laid before her, forcing her to lift her arm to her face as if to shield herself from the repugnant smell. It was the same arm that the Wampa should have torn off, and remember what had happened, Ayra paused to observe it. The beasts claws had ripped through the layer of fabric that had served as her robes sleeve, revealing the shells of the Orbalisks that rested along her arm. But there was no blood and her arm did not feel broken, despite the force being the Wampa's blow. Flexing her fingers, Darth Ayra made the connection. The Wampa had not been able to pierce the Orbalisk shells. It hadn't even been able to break her arm.

 

[Yag'dril]

[member="Darth Ayra"]

Location B

There were sounds as she was moving, the sounds of someone fighting and Yag dropped down while she was moving through the snow into a cave where the scent came to her nostrils. "Hmm." She was looking to work on some of the bigger things before she looked up and heard the dangerous sounds of a wampa as it was rising up and she coiled herself around. Then there was someone else there fighting, the sounds of it and their skill denoted a force user but she didn't work with senses to detect it. Just observations to their movement and whatever it was they were wearing. The armor seemed strange before Yag moved after the wampa struck them and she went quickly letting the force augment her speed and muscles to wrap around the large beast and hold it at the arms and legs squeezing with a curtain of black hair. She felt a snap while it was trying to struggle against her muscles constricting around him.