Faction A Hutt Load Of Trouble (The Enclave)

[Faison Kelborn]

TAG: Stone Gra'tua Tharil

The two men were locked in a fight for life and death. The dagger held in the Nikto's hand began edging closer and closer to a gap between the beskar plate interweaving across Faison's form. Thus far, the Mandalorian had managed to hold the Nikto at bay when it was one hand vs the other, with the Nikto holding the Mando's other hand off to the side to prevent a counter strike. When the Nikto shifted his weight behind the dagger hand, it started its trajectory dangerously closer to gain purchase. Faison's mind raced for a way to disrupt his opponent's focus, and immediately gained a bout of inspiration. A shot rang out from Faison's wrist struggling to stave off the dagger. The bolt singed the cheek of the Nikto, causing him to flinch, which provided a window of opportunity for the Mandalorian.

Faison's left hand writhed free from the grasp of the Nikto, a six-inch blade protruding from his wrist-sheath, and he wasted little time punching firmly into the exposed neck of the Nikto. The blade slipped through the Nikto's neck tissue, blood draining from the wound and dripping onto the Mandalorian's visor. His assailant let out a guttural bellow, then fell off to the side. But Faison would not find any time to bask in his victory over the Nikto, as the Trandoshan eventually arose from his thigh wound and scrambled for his blaster pistol at his side. Faison quickly shifted onto his fore arm and shot out with his wrist mounted blaster, impacting against the shoulder of the arm that reached for the blaster at the Trando's waist. The thug fell backwards, clutching the wounded shoulder. Faison kept his wrist trained on the Trandoshan, and scanned the area for any further threats. Thermal scans revealed no further assailants, to the tenuous relief of the Mandalorian. He then picked up his hand cannon and approached the Trandoshan, kicking away the blaster pistol as he made his way closer to the body - careful to stay outside of arms reach.

"Who are you, and what's going on here?" Faison questioned, the blood streaked across his visor giving him an intimidating air. The Trandoshan emitted a weary chuckle, and spat at Faison's feet, otherwise saying nothing. Faison grimaced from behind his visor, and let loose a shot to the Trandoshan's opposing shoulder - throwing him again to the ground, a scream of pain forced out of his lips. It was at that moment Faison heard Tharia's voice. <"Roger, I have a prisoner. I need to relocate though - you've got dozens of skiffs converging on your position.">

Faison glanced back over at the action, noting the shenanigans Stone was currently engaged in. <"Scratch that, dozens minus 1. Stone is inbound for extraction. I suggest you take it, our ride is down.">

Faison holstered his hand cannon as the Trandoshan began rising again, venom in his glare at the armored hulk. Before the Trandoshan said what was on his lips, Faison quick drew one of his blaster pistols and shot him with a stun round in between the eyes. Like a bag of bricks, the Trandoshan hit the ground unconscious. He then quickly set about dressing the Trandoshan's wounds before tying his hands behind his back. Faison then pressed a few commands on his wrist, which summoned his bike to hover to his side. The Mandalorian then struggled to heave the massive form of the Trandoshan onto the bike, causing the hovering craft to dip slightly at the weight. He glanced around again to ensure he wasn't about to be ambushed again, before he pulled his sniper rifle from his sling and aimed down its sights. He tracked one of the two skiffs chasing Stone as he sped to the estate, took in a breath, and loosed a shot aimed at the engine block poking out from the undercarriage of the ill-maintained skiff. At once, the block erupted in a funnel of flames and debris, incinerating several of the men aboard and throwing the rest across the landscape.

Faison did not spend time to admire his handiwork, as he shouldered his rifle again and activated his rocket boots, moving to relocate to a different position - his speeder bike following via his remote link.

 

[Tharil]

And the ship went boom.

The thin line of a frown under Tharia's helmet could be very well be felt by anyone close by. Grant it, everyone close by was dead or dying. Hopefully dead now that she looked to the charred bodies. That'd suck to live through. She hummed softly before going over to each and putting a bolt in their heads. Just to make sure, for their sake. Then lifted her gaze. Sure enough, Faison Kelborn 's warning of a couple dozen wasn't an exaggeration.

They really wanted Beskar, huh?

The grin returned as she watched Stone Gra'tua approach. Her own jetpack kicked on as she dove onto the incoming Skiff, landing behind her Vod to let loose a volley of Charric bolts towards the other two heading their way.

<See? This shit's fun as hell!> One of the thugs shots rang off her helmet, causing her to stumble back a step. But she was dazed only for a moment, cackling madly over the coms. She leaned over, letting loose a missile from her jetpack to launch into one of the Skiffs, leaving it a beautiful smoldering wreck.

<Kelborn! Find a place for us to lay low. We'll loose our tail n' meet up.>

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

Location : Fesch Estate
Equipment : In Signature
Tags : Faison Kelborn Tharil

Stone kept up his blasterfire as he wheeled the Skiff through obstacles, ducking behind the controls to avoid incoming fire, and firing back as best he could. Once Tharia was aboard, adding the welcome weight of her own Charric fire to his, their odds improved significantly. There were still a ton of enemies to get by. Two of them were coming at their stolen skiff, head on, while two more were in hot pursuit. "More fun incoming. Abandon skiff!" he yelled to Tharia, grinning, as he locked the skiff into a crash course, engaged his jetpack, and jetted up and across to the nearest pursuing skiff.

The Mando dropped from the air and landed among the soldiers, who turned to attack the Mando'ad in their midst. Drawing his vibroblade with his off-hand, Stone fought them with blaster and blade, quickly thinning their ranks. As he fought, the skiff he'd just left continued on to smash into two incoming skiffs; the explosion taking out all three, along with their passengers. A wayward shot hit the pilot of Stone's skiff in the back of the head, sending that skiff into an uncontrolled turn, and it began to scrape against the skiff next to it. It was a hell of a mess, two skiffs, side to side, one no longer under control, racing along the ground, Mandalorians in the middle of a close quarters fight. He hoped Kelborn was having better luck, Stone and Tharia had their hands full.

 

[Faison Kelborn]

TAG: Tharil Stone Gra'tua

As Faison sped up and off of the cliffside, his bike in tow following after him; Tharia's voice bled over the comm frequency, urging Faison to flee and find a place to lay low. His first thought was to ignore the request completely, as it was against his nature to let comrades - no matter how recent the comradery was forged - to fend for themselves. Yet, the course of wisdom was to do as she proposed. He had a prisoner in tow, and they currently did not have any place to escape to per se. If he could secure them some place nearby, they could focus on losing their tails. He sped off with his rocket boots and speeder bike in tow toward the west, keeping along the rolling foothills of the mountains dotting the landscape to the north. As the trail tapered down into a valley a few dozen meters lower than his current position, he turned northward to the mountains proper where the temperatures began to recede to lower degrees.

Thermal scans revealed the presence of a primarily scampering alpine creatures, with a few day-time predators searching for food. Otherwise, he did not spy any wandering mercenaries or anyone else out of place. He continued further for several minutes until he approached a densely packed rock formation, with a hardly noticeable trail branching off of the main clearing within the glade. He followed the trail to what appeared to be an abandoned mining outpost, with old durasteel structures covered in snow and decaying flora from the recent fall season. He landed to his feet, pulling out one of his blasters as he slowly approached one of the three major structures in the camp. The doors appeared to be locked fast, as if their previous occupants, yet the ill repair of the exterior of the structures appeared to indicate that whomever locked up prior may have intended to return, but either met some grizzly end or otherwise opted to stay away.

Faison's senses were on alert, but he didn't exactly have time to consider why this place was abandoned in the first place. That said, it wasn't like rakghouls were hiding around every corner in the galaxy - right? he approached the access panel of the structure, and holstered his pistol so as to reach for a small access cable from his wrist. He plugged the cable into the interface, and began slicing the rudimentary security software within the unit. Less than a minute passed before the terminal beeped pleasantly, and the mechanical sounds of locks disengaging could be heard on the other side of the door. Faison extricated his pistol again, and opened the door. On the other side, a sparsely adorned shelter lay within - featuring chairs, tables, a set of bunkbeds, and a few ancillary rooms for necessary habitation. It was relatively clean considering the likely amount of time that had transpired between now and its last occupancy, with the shelter's climate control system obviously filtering out natural sources of dust from within.

After securing the building, Faison set about doing so with the other two buildings, both of which revealed themselves to be a storage unit and a maintenance shed respectively. Both buildings were locked tightly, and contained no presence of being recently disturbed. After making reasonable assurances this was a relatively safe place to lay low, Faison pushed the still-unconscious body of his prisoner from the bike and dragged him through the snow into the room with some small measure of difficulty given the size. He eventually worked the Trandoshan into one of the rooms of the shelter, securing him via a pair of cuffs to the bedframe before making sure there weren't any implements or other items to allow for the prisoner to attempt an escape. He then searched the mercenary's body, making sure to remove any items of use.

Then, he locked the room behind him as he set about hiding his speeder bike from aerial detection underneath the overhanging roof of the maintenance shed, then set about broadcasting his location via a secure line to the others. He was nearly 12 kilometers from their previous position, and he set about highlighting the path he took via his internal mapping system so as to ease their ability to plot a course of escape. Then, he picked a seat, and waited - taking some time to inspect his weapons & armor, and ready himself for the next surprise that may well reveal itself.

 

[Tharil]

<Deep breath Stone!> Tharia wasn't far behind Stone Gra'tua as the Mandalorian abandoned the now doomed Skiff. Chaos was all that awaited them. High speed skiff to skiff action, tanking blaster fire and trying not to get blow up in the process. More were already coming around now that the Duo's original Skiff had been destroyed. She landed by the pilot, pushing their corpse from the seat to take control.

And push into the other Skiff harder. They weren't going to escape by Skiff, that much was certain now.

With a wide grin she clicked on one of her grenades, setting it close by. Instead of an explosion, a plume of thick smoke filled the air. For the thugs without the filtered masks of Mandalorians, a breath spelt death. A painful, hazed death as their blood thinned to the point of leaking from every part of their faces. The gas didn't stop either. Even as they sped along they leaved a trail of chemicals cloaking the air. Any skiffs that followed met a similar fate, their occupants rapidly decaying and dying.

Crashing.

The smoke acted as a deterrent and a smokescreen. The Chiss set up another of the grenades before stepping over to Stone. Her helm could see through the smoke clearly. His might? Hell, did he even have a filter? Nah, he should be fine so long as he didn't breath in anything. <We ditch, no jetpacks. They'll trace the heat.> Then she jumped off, rolling on the ground even as she impacted the dirt. Not a second later and she was on her feet, rushing behind cover and towards the underbrush.

<Tell me some good news Fasion.>

Faison Kelborn

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

Location : Fesch Estate
Equipment : In Signature
Tags : Tharil Faison Kelborn

Between the explosions and Tharia's ingenious use of gas grenades, the mess Stone and Tharia were in was quickly dealt with. Mandalorians brought their own air with them, after all. Scumbags that worked for Hutt gangsters, it appeared, did not. Stone followed the Chiss supercommando's lead, when she called out to make another exit from the skiff, he exited and rolled into a landing, heading quickly for cover as his partner did.

"Remind me to pick up some of those at the bazaar." Stone said, referring to the gas grenades, which had just proven their usefulness. He still had his jetpack's missile for heavy firepower, and scanned the area for targets through the smoke; but none made themselves apparent. "Looks like we're clear for now." He'd save the big boom for later, without his rifle, he had only his sidearms, which he took the time to reload with fresh charge packs, sheathing his beskar blade for now, and awaiting Faison's response via their shared comm link.

 

[Faison Kelborn]

TAG: Tharil Stone Gra'tua

<"I'm sharing my location with you both already."> It was likely the other two would not notice it since they did not know him well yet, but a slight bout of annoyance laced Faison's response. In his opinion, this was almost entirely attributed to the fact they did not have a plan. Now, he set about finding a place to lay low and spend even more time on this damnable rock. Makeb wasn't the worst place to be, but he didn't particularly like the 'slug problem' that existed here. As he awaited their arrival at their would-be home for the next few days at least, Faison set about taking stock of what was available. It appeared most food items had already been pilfered long ago, likely when this facility was abandoned in the first place. There was some running water, only due to a natural water harvester established at the perimeter along the mountain face.

Initial testing revealed the water was within acceptable drinking levels, with minimal contamination from the internal plumbing. The buildings had power by virtue of solar panels built onto the rooftops of the complex, likely to render this mining camp as self sustaining as possible. This didn't appear to be Hutt handiwork, but then again there were some who styled themselves as 'nobles' rather than mere crime lords. He had taken shelter in worse places, that was for sure.

He continued to pass the time by establishing rudimentary early warning traps at the access points of the mining camp, utilizing scrap material from the mechanical shed, bits of twine, and natural elements around him. It wasn't foolproof, or even anything close to a legitimate early warning system as a part of a simple security system, but it would do for now. He would wait on setting some explosive traps until the other two arrived, so he went back into the shelter to guard their captive. He was thusly still unconscious, but it wasn't a good idea to leave a captured enemy unattended for too long.

 

[Tharil]

"You ain't gonna find these bad boys on any bazaar. If you're lucky I might make a couple extra for ya." She'd give Stone Gra'tua a wink if not for the helmet. Well, she did anyway, just he couldn't see it. Her gaze drifted to her wrist device, pulling open the map. Yep. Faison Kelborn was already sharing things. <Aww c'mon, it's more fun if you hide things till someone asks. This why you single?>

Was he single? Tharia had no idea, but felt like teasing him anyway. Worst case it'd backfire, but she could probably think up something to snap back when the moment called for it. Adrenaline still surged through her body, and all this carnage and chaos left her in a pretty good mood. She'd give her partner in crime a single nod before starting the job to the nearby safe house.

There she opened the door. "Honey I'm home. You wouldn't believe the traffic." A snicker as she moved deeper into the room, finding a place to unceremoniously plop down.

"Our guest still takin a nap?"

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

Location : Fesch Estate
Equipment : In Signature
Tags : Faison Kelborn Tharil

Stone grinned at the thought of getting his hands on some of Tharia's fancy gas grenades, though she wouldn't see it through the helmet. He settled for returning a silent nod, and followed along, covering the rear as they made their way, quickly but quietly, to rendezvous with Faison and what he'd found for them. Stone hoped they would find some shabla answers, because today's mission had gone to osik. The old warrior brooded silently on what other surprises might be waiting, but kept his focus on the mission, watching for threats.

Following the Chiss supercommando inside, he ignored the comedy, figuring Tharia's performance was for Faison's benefit. Stone kept his feet, too agitated to sit down, leaning against a wall, saying nothing. He wasn't normally the silent type, at times he could give speeches that seemed endless, but Stone was pissed. The captive that Faison had taken would want to be talkative; Stone was in no mood for games. He wanted to find more enemies, and kill them all.

Finally, he had to say something. "I think our friend has slept long enough. We need some answers." He looked back and forth from Faison to Tharia and back again, trying to gauge their opinions.

 

[Faison Kelborn]

TAG: Stone Gra'tua Tharil
LOCATION: Abandoned Mining Facility

When his newfound companions arrived to the mining facility, and strutted around as if everything was 'business as usual', Faison couldn't help but look a little dumbfounded. Was this some twisted irony being inflicted upon him? Was this some recompense being exacted by some unknown deity over his past sins? It better be, otherwise Faison would have words with his maker when his time came. "You both realize that this entire situation... was entirely avoidable?" He began, his voice low and incredulous. "The biggest law of the universe is 'whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.' Guess what? Whatever could go wrong did in fact go very wrong." His incredulity turned into a barely contained anger - not exclusively at his companions, but at the whole situation. Sure, they could have collectively planned this operation better (as if Faison didn't suggest that in the beginning), but he was ultimately disappointed in himself. Even though there wasn't much he could have done to fully prevent this situation from happening, he was accustomed to taking the blame upon his shoulders when things went south.

Some called said feelings a hallmark of a leader, rendering it a desirable trait. To Faison, it was annoying as hell. He paused for a few moments, allowing himself to calm down. Nothing good would come from berating his companions right now. Whether he liked it or not, they were now squarely within this situation together. Honor dictated he couldn't just simply abandon them and cut his losses, or abandon the contract they had undertaken together. Despite how much this situation was 'fouled up beyond all recognition', it was theirs and theirs alone. Faison's eyes met Stone's, his mind circling back to the Mereel's suggestion of interrogating the prisoner. Wordlessly, Faison turned to the kitchen where he filled a small bucket of water, then proceeded over to the door securing their quarry within his room. He opened the door to the form of the Trandoshan still solidly passed out. Faison upended the bucket over the Trandoshan's head, which caused the brute to thrash about violently in surprise. Had it not been for his wounds, the Trandoshan would have very likely ripped off the part of the bed he was cuffed to, but instead the frame itself shifted several feet as the Trandoshan writhed about.

Within a few moments, the Trandoshan calmed down; his adrenaline subsiding from the shock of the cold water being thrown against his skin. Fatigue from the trauma his body went through a few hours prior began to settle in, but otherwise his senses were returned to him. It became clear thereafter that this Trandoshan was no normal brute - but rather, comported himself with a measure of restraint indicative of a killer far more capable than your usual scumbag found within the employ of a Hutt. Faison's experience as an investigator within Cor-sec during a time in his life which felt so far away began rushing back to him, his senses seemingly attuning to a higher frequency. As an investigator, one developed a sense when it came to finding the truth, or assessing the temperament of those being interrogated. This Trandoshan gave him the distinct impression of someone who was not an amateur in this line of work. From the way he carried himself, to the deadpan glint in the lizard's beady eyes, this brute was likely a battle-hardened mercenary, a contracted assassin, or a combination thereof. Faison's first instinct was the former, but he hesitated to decide. They hadn't even exchanged words yet, and much could be learned from the way in which this Trando comported himself under interrogation. Yet, from what the Mandalorian could tell, it seemed obvious that Faison would be the one to speak. He thought of going down a different path instead.

He glanced over at Tharia and Stone, who presumably followed him into the room, and said in a more mild tone to them both: "Who wants to go first?"