Deorum Lamia │ You're a Big Dragon!

[Sirak Kolar]

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Ebon mediated in quiet harmony on the upper deck of the freighter known as 'The Vapor Wave', it's engines offering a soft rumble as the ship came to orbit around the planet of Tatooine. For days, the Zabrak sat cramped in the various places around the YT-2000 Freighter until he finally found solitude in the upper floors of it's main body. The storage rooms surrounding the Sith seemed filled end to end with various types of spice and ammunition, ranging from Glitterstim, Savorium herb, and numerous things Ebon failed to recognize.

The smell was rancid, as the ship was cleaned little, and the faint arguments of the pilots echoe'ed through the small cabin, obviously jarring all those present. The interior of the ship held a deep haze, and clutter lined the floor with rampant strains of various colors and grime while piles of trash found their ways in corner. Hardly a ship to be proud of, it still had the speed necessary to do the work Ebon needed, and despite the activities of it's pilots, he trusted them enough to do their job.

Back to the objective at hand, Ebon collected his thoughts. To finish the lightsaber he sought to create, and to train the agents he began to take into his midst, he thought only to challenge them, and to accomplish both in a single beautiful goal was to have them kill a Krayt Dragon as a team. Ebon only hoped they could do such a thing, working together and not kill each other before the time came...

Slowly, his thoughts moved to what others in the ship were doing, finding the ship come to it's polar orbit around the planet, any moment prepared to descend into the desert to find the dragon they searched for.


[member="Qrgyl Ud"] │ [member="Probos Gubb"] │ [member="Evor"] │ [member="Tura"]

 

[Probos Gubb]

The arguing began to grow exponentially, evolving into a near screaming match before being silenced by the opening screech of the bridge's door. Probos escaped the argument muttering the Durese equivalent of "whatever dude."

Toxins flooded the Durosians body. A swig of beer was taken in between drags of his cigarette. The current coffin nails smolder was camouflaged by the haze of it's hundreds of predecessors. He drunkenly zig zagged to the ladder leading to the upper deck, a cigarette clasped in his mouth and a bottle of Elba beer in his hand. Slowly making his way up the ladder he poked his reddened eyes just above the floor and into the cabin as he mumbled to the meditating Zabrak.

"So are you ready to go or what?"


[member="Ebon"] | [member="Qrgyl Ud"]

 

[Evor]

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The loud, dull, methodical thud of flesh on bag echoed around the small room. Small droplets of blood laced the floor of the room,​

as well as Evor's unmasked face. The scent of his own blood sent him into a slowly increasing battle fury, his punches slowly gaining more speed and ferocity. Spittle flew from his lips as his head moved in rhythm with his arms, his body one fluid motion of calculated destruction. His limbs seemed to move with an unnatural ease, one movement flowing into the next. As his knuckles grew more bruised and bloody, his mind became all the more clear. The pain eased his troubled mind, giving it a purpose and home. His mind wandered from thought to thought almost as seamlessly as his arms and legs followed each other in the thrill of combat. The thought of the dragon did not cross his mind at all as he lowered his body closer to the floor and swept at the legs of the invisible enemy he was beating into oblivion. He kept his momentum from going to the side, he tucked his body and rolled forward, grabbing the hilt of his saber off the floor mid roll.​

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Slowly he rose to full height, the faint flow of red and pink lighting up the back of his sweat-drenched back as both blades ignited at a 90 degree angle behind him. His chest rose, only to quickly fall once more. To rise, to fall once more. To rise and then to fall once more before in a flurry of blows he spun on his left hell, swinging both blades up and forward, slashing in an upwards manner towards the bag. Before the strokes were complete he twisted them out, bringing them almost perpendicular to his body, before bringing them together in a fluid motion, decapitating the defenseless bag.​

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[member="Ebon"] | [member="Qrgyl Ud"] | [member="Probos Gubb"] ​

 

[Qrgyl Ud]

Again the Gand and the Duros had found themselves in another trivial argument over racial supremacy. Qrgyl claiming the Gand were superior for their common immunity against disease and the Findsmen tradition whilst Probos argued none of that mattered if Qrgyl's race was destined to die out, as Probos articulated. The Gand found himself slumped in his seat at the head of the canopy. Qrgyl then shook off the nonsensical anger with a grunt and pressed his three fingered hand unto the lid of his compartment of various spices he kept embedded into the dashboard in front of him. He pulled out a small plasteel box and slid open the lid to reveal twenty-four rolled joints of Savorium Herb arranged in four rows of six. The Gand pulled one out with a guttural chuckle as he unscrewed a rod in his mask which allowed him to consume food, drink and of course, Qrgyl's favorite, spice. The pilot ignited his Savorium joint and stuffed it into his breather mask as he leaned back in his chair, very much so more at ease as he watched the twin Tatoo suns and natural satellites of the sandy planet rise over the rolling dunes of Tatooine.

@Evor │ [member="Probos Gubb"] │ @Ebon │ [member="Tura"]​

 

[Tura]

Tura was within her quarters while the others were up to their own business. She was dragged along on this apparent hunt all because [member="Ebon"] had ordered it. But why her? What good was she on this sort of mission? True she had some archery skills and she had a hand in the force, but neither of them were mastered against something as great as a krayt dragon. She sat within her chamber, idling over her weapons while contemplating what would happen. Best case scenario was they managed to kill it or get away unarmed. Worse case was they'd all wind up as breakfast for the beast. Not the best of outcomes when one was more out of sheer luck at this point. The Chironian girl just prayed to whatever gods were listening that things would go better than she feared. For all she knew these other men brought along wouldn't last as long either.

[member="Qrgyl Ud"] [member="Evor"] [member="Probos Gubb"]

 

[Sirak Kolar]

"So are you ready to go or what?"

"Yes, bring the ship down.", he retorted. His mind wandered to his apprentice, [member="Tura"], who he claimed from Nar Shaddaa. In fact, all those aboard he had collected from the same place, and the coicidence struck him considering how wide and open the galaxy really was.

His mind explored once more as he climbed down the ladder to the main floor of the ship, making his way to the storage lockers he kept on the far edge of the room. Inside, he donned what little equipment he had, a belt with geo-tracking sensors for pickup of the carcass, and a leather pouch for the finger bones he sought. Ebon grinned in anticipation as he felt the ship breach the ships dusty atmosphere...

[member="Qrgyl Ud"] │ [member="Evor"] │ [member="Probos Gubb"]

 

[Qrgyl Ud]

With the lit Savorium joint still held in his mask the Gand jerked the joystick downward and sent the ship down towards the endless dune seas of Tatooine. As soon as The Vapor Wave neared the surface he pulled up on the joy stick, bringing the freighter's landing gear into the sand with a metallic thump. As soon as the ship was landed Qrgyl set his gaze unto the canopy, shifting his eyes across the tall spires of the Jundland Wastes. After a moment of fascination of the derelict world he flicked on the intercom and spoke to the crew he so reluctantly let unto his ship. "Qrgyl has landed the ship, Jundland Wastes to home to many of Krayt Dragon. This Gand will find us a bantha. Qrgyl suggests you all find Krayt Dragon lair and be wary for sand demons during your search." The Gand said with a placid tone as he removed the Savorium Joint from his respirator before sticking it back in as he lifted himself from his seat. The Gand made his way to the ramp where he found his sniper and blaster pistol along with a backpack, packed tightly with explosive packs and of course the auxiliary pockets used for rations and boxes of Savorium Herb.

Without the further knowledge of the rest of The Vapor Wave's passenger the Gand made his way into the Jundland Wastes with the intent to track a bantha, for if the group truly wished to eliminate the Krayt Dragon without causality, they would need it. At least for the plan only a spice-addicted Qrgyl could orchestrate.

[member="Ebon"] | [member="Evor"] | [member="Probos Gubb"] | [member="Tura"]

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon offered no protest in [member="Qrgyl Ud"]'s both curious, and blatantly insane "plan", instead simply offering a faint sigh and moving towards the ramp himself. As the Gand disappeared into the rocky outcroppings that surrounded them, Ebon turned back to wait for [member="Evor"] and [member="Tura"] . He offered a few simple words as he waited;

"Prepare yourself. If we are to face Sand Demons, we may lose one of us.", he look was solemn, almost expecting it, but his attention quickly turned to the landscape outside and with it he walked down the rest of the ramp of the Vapor Wave.

Outside was horribly dusty, a faint sandstorm miles from them blackening the horizon in foreshadowed darkness. Ebon's hood whipped back from the wind, forcing him to bring it back up and wait once more, his feet seeming to take him around the ship's landing spot in the middle of no where. Soon, as he became comfortable with their temporary home, Ebon began turning his gaze outwards, looking into the distance for tracks of any sort, or negligible imperfections in the massive stone walls that riddled the landscape. Quietly, he brought up his electrobinoculars, his entire focus turned towards reconnaissance.

[member="Probos Gubb"]