Anticlimactic Hunt

[Davon Karr]

It was cold and damp down here. The silence punctuated by the constant patter of water droplets from stalactites. In the wide cavern three big lights cast long shadows from the rocky formations.

"Please..." a quiet whisper broke the silence.

"Oh, cease your whining," Davon called. His helmet was on the slippery floor whilst he perched his rear on a rock. He closed a hip flask of something to stay warm and put it back on his belt.

"You can't treat a prisoner like..." the figure in the centre of the room snivelled. Clad in simple grey clothing, his hands were fully enclosed in a metal case, his ankle chained down.

"One: my grandson in law picked you up on a bounty placed for murdering civilians so I'll take no advice from you on treating prisoners. Two: I've borrowed you from him and I'm not so flush as to want to pay the lad five thousand myself on account of getting you eaten before the bounty is claimed."

The Sith acolyte mumbled something to himself. Davon ignored him.

"Besides, that's why we brought bessie here," Davon laughed, slapping the field gun beside him. Bessie, or BS5 was an around two metres of matte black metal anchored to the cavern floor. The field gun fired 30mm depleted baradium rounds off at around ten per second. Once the beast, that had been plaguing the local town, appeared it was a matter of pointing the targeting laser at it. Unless it was covered in two metre thick ceramic armour it wasn't going to last long.

There were mandalorians who liked to beat their chests and test themselves at every corner in hand to hand combat. Davon was a practical soldier and as far as he was concerned this was pest control.

"Anyone want a swig...not you," Davon asked, holding up his hip flask. The Sith prisoner slowly lowered his hand.

 

[Joanes Quez]

[member="Davon Karr"]

Joanes was often a man of few words, and even fewer, yet nuanced, expressions; his armoured lean against a rocky wall with helm dangling from the left hand was capped with one of those few expressions, the very one he'd kept well-practised while guiding his daughters through poor choices in boys that were so far off from the mark that made them men. He had a few theories on how they all seemed to have misplaced their spines, but then he hadn't seen either of d'Lyanettea or Benita trotting males through the Dantooine homestead ever since it'd been obliterated. Ever since Mureen had been taken from them, from him, and that'd returned an anger to his eyes that'd vanished with the slow, early-rising life of child-rearing and bucolic existence.

"Give it 'ere," he loosed with a gravelled grunt, shoving off of the lean, and ambling over; helm traded off to the other hand, and the acolyte's hair was ruffled in passing, and finished with a sharp smack upside the back of the head, the hand leaving with a whine from the boy, "oh, stow it. I got a son about your age. Dumber than 'erd animals and 'e's no snivvellin' twunt."

He turned his head and spat the tabac that was clipping letters off his words.

"Thanks," were given upon plucking the flask from Davon's hand, putting it to his lips for a glug in the same motion, after which the back of a hand swiped across his mouth and he handed it back, "the beast better show soon, or it's getting dragged here against its will."

Could he? Maybe once, he could. Maybe the aforementioned offspring could, had he not chose cavorting across the galaxy with some outer-rim jetii over the toil of his own people, eschewing the resol'nare in doing so. Joanes was tight-lipped about it, yet he still loved his son.

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Joanes Quez"]

"Ah won't be long. Heard these things can smell a Force user from a distance. Mind, I don't know how hungry they get but they're supposed to come pretty quick to try and devour them."

Davon paused and waited for a reaction from the chained Sith that didn't come. This seemed to annoy Davon who had actually been using the boy to stave off the boredom. A lot of people didn't realise how much of soldiering was walking places and waiting for things. It seemed hunting was mostly the same. Davon had another go.

"Best not slap him, might break his penciled neck." Again, no reaction. "Already had my granddaughter on the holo to complain about delaying their business. Might lose a few creds if he comes in broken."

"Oh you spoke to Ri? How is she?" Chad asked. The lad had always been close to his older sister, even had a very similar set of colours on his armour.

Davon sighed and looked at him incredulously. "I haven't spoken to her you soft-headed lad. I was trying to get a reaction from the bait." Chad was forty. "Anyway, whereabouts you hail from friend?" he asked Quez, looking for something else to keep him awake.

 

[Joanes Quez]

[member="Davon Karr"]

Silence fell over Joanes with the familial chatter, mouth resuming its usual line, once the taunting of the prisoner ceased. He listened, only in cursory notice, until he was asked after. Blue eyes, a fair head, turned to Karr, jaw moving as if to chew on the words at the tip of his tongue.

"Dantooine," he rumbled, one shoulder rolling a shrug, "used to."

Next to nothing to do with the aliit'buir's recent decision to resettle and move away from what was until recently an empire. It was before the zealous horde, before she'd been taken from him. He reclined against rock again, light eyes turning to fix on the aforementioned slim neck of chained dar'jetii a moment. Could snap it with one hand, just so. Or a look. Might just snap out of fear of that, were he not needed for bait, and for bounty.

"Clan's resettling on Wayland. My eldest is there, lending a hand."

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Joanes Quez"]

"I imagine there's plenty of nasties like this one hanging around on Wayland since the primeval left. Morellian genes myself so I'm up to my first great great grandson and..." he waved a hand nonchalantly for Chad's benefit. "...plenty of others. I can never remember."

"Hey..."

"It doesn't help that the later generations keep naming their children after my children and grandchildren. So if you need spare bodies I'm sure I can dig some up."

"Hey again..."

Davon chuckled. The old man could be blunt sometimes, this was one of those. "What made you leave Dantooine?"

 

[Joanes Quez]

[member="Davon Karr"]

An amused grunt escaped him at Chad's protestations, and his head dropped back against the cavern wall, eyes lofting, staring off into nothing. Lids dropped, cutting off his vision, and a sigh eased out of him. "Primeval, which cost me Mureen," and whatever he felt of it, his face was stone as his eyelids began to lift, "the homestead, livestock, crops, and some good hands."

He glanced sidelong at Karr.

"Then we went back," his head dropped forward, and he looked for a rock to drop his back end on, "when the Primeval pulled back into itself. Now, Vizsla no longer holds the world, as per abandonment due to some disagreement between Alor Vizsla and that imperial Mand'alor, as I heard it."

He chuckled one or two notes, despite himself.

"Doesn't make my flocks and herds need any less tending," he groused, "karkin' pain in my rump."

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Joanes Quez"]

Davon fell silent for a few seconds, holding up his hand for the same from everyone else. He picked his helm up from the rock beside it and slid it on. The map of the nearby caverns appeared on his HUD and every detector still appeared green.

“Thought I heard something, never mind,” he said. It was notable that Davon kept his helmet on. The old man had always had a good nose for danger. Something the size of a terentatek wasn’t about to get close to them without setting off one of the silent alarms, but he was certain he heard something down a side passage.

“Most of my family resides around Calna Muun on Agamar,” Davon said. There was no differentiation between the galactic basic terms ‘family’ and ‘clan’ in the mandoa he spoke. “Had a nice quiet retirement all turned up til Death Watch decided to occupy it as the Clans fell back in on themselves. Funny, you’d think a Mandalorian would have understood that Mandalorians acting as civilians, or too old or young to be on the front lines still wouldn’t tolerate an occupation.”

Davon had led most of the resistance himself, though there were disparate cells to ensure they couldn’t be cut off at the top. It had been a long and bloody campaign. At the end of it, he’d simply felt like his home was still lost to him in some way. He’d returned to the front and some fool had put him forward for the blood duel for command. The stiches may have long gone, but his side still ached where Ra’s axe had opened him up.

 

[Joanes Quez]

[member="Davon Karr"]

The hand cut off every little sound he made, making him still as the rock that made up the cavern while in the midst of seating himself on a smaller, independent rock. He'd only got a hand on it, when the signal made a statue of him. Listening, scanning with his eyes into the nearest dark passage, he waited for Karr to give the all-clear. Then, with it given, he finished his movement and plopped down on the rock, pulling his own helm over his head once he'd done so, and paid attention while Karr divulged some about his own life. It couldn't be long now.

"Takes all kinds, amongst the Mando'ade" he said, "even those."

He chuffed, jaw moving back and forth. The attacks, the losses, were what it took to bring about the resurgence that was rippling across the many worlds with current and former territory-bound ties to their culture.

"And we'll need them all," as distasteful as it might sound, "soon enough, I feel. Don't expect we'll be going back to retirement, anytime soon, if at all."

For death was fact, and he would accept it when and where it came. If it could find him.

 

[Davon Karr]

“I don’t suppose,” Davon agreed wearily. “The latest generation don’t need me teaching them back at home now. The Karr’s have been part time soldiers or professional mercenaries for too long now. We’re pulling back our warriors deployed with the Betnas at Company level. We’re going to form our own Regiment or division that can deploy for them alone.”

He rolled his shoulders, beskar plates making remarkably little noise at the gesture. “I’ve met the Manda’alor, fought him in fact,” Davon said. He held up one hand before Chad could interrupt by regaling the others with details of the fight.

“Still hurts where his axe cut. The fighting isn’t going to stop for a time, I can tell you that.”

There was a thud. A crash down one passage from rock on rock. A moment later one of the silent proximity alarms went off, a warning across Davon’s HUD appearing. “Well then, guess my hearing isn’t as bad as I thought.”

 

[Davon Karr]

"Please, please," came a pitiful whimper. Perhaps the Sith could sense the oncoming doom. Could he feel the creature approaching, feel it's hunger for Force Sensitive blood?

"Helmets on!" Davon yelled, and with good cause.

The tusks appeared first from the shadows. Then the widest maw Davon had ever seen. Bright eyes followed and an arm that ended in vicious claws. It turned its head to regard the mandalorians. Then it's focus settled on the Sith.

"Oh kark. No."

"Hello beasty," Davon called as the beast took a step. The helmets were necessary. The reason for this revealed a second later as the heavy cannon opened up. Even without black powder, firing several hundred heavy rounds in a few seconds generated a hell of a noise. In the tint cavern it was literally deafening.

What had been the terentatek's head vanished as rounds designed to puncture AT-AT armour obliterated it. Davon walked forwards as the rest of the beast fell forwards. The sith looked up at Davon.

"I can't hear!" he shouted.

"And you never will again. Not in the terms of the bounty," Davon chuckled.