Rusty
Purveyor of Fine Weaponry
The skull made a sickening crunch as Gertrude's buttstock connected with it, all the force Rusty could muster behind the blow. The four legged creature dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, its skull burst like an overripe melon.
The three other creatures paused, suddenly wary. The tables had been turned. Prey could turn violent when cornered, they knew that well, but rarely with such ferocity. Their glittering multifaceted eyes were not the eyes of dumb animals, but of sentient beings who could think, who could plan.
The leader of the pack let out a long, chittering wail as the Shard leveled the massive rifle. They recognized that there was danger on an instinctual level and took several steps back.
The species wasn't one that the gunsmith had encountered before. Their flanks were covered with short green fur, thick and coarse, and their backs armored with thick chitin. Their heads seemed overlarge for their bodies, supporting massive jaws layered with rows of jagged, sharklike teeth. Long, muscular legs propelled their sinuous bodies with frightening speed when necessary. They limbs terminated in nimble hands, with three forward facing fingers and rearward facing thumbs. The thumbs were tipped with flat, almost daggerlike talons.
Individually, the creatures weren't large, only about a meter from snout to rump, but they clearly worked as a pack to make up for it.
"Laguz, you awake?" Rusty called, his back towards the wreckage of the freighter.
This was supposed to have been an easy mission. He had a load of armaments that needed to be delivered to a small band of mercenaries trying to get a start in the Mid Rim. Their leader had seemed pleasant enough, and had deep enough pockets to pay for the goods upfront. Their mission statement was to curtail the excesses of Force Users through superior arms and tactics, a sentiment Rusty could get behind easily. And so he had agreed to meet them in person with the first shipment, in order to work out contractual details for continued business.
He had hired his shapeshifting friend, [member="Laguz Vald"], as a bodyguard. "Friend" might have been an odd term for the both of them, but that was the most accurate way to describe their relationship. They enjoyed each other's company, they worked well together as a team, and their joint ventures were usually profitable. There was always a chance that they would end up on opposite sides of a contract one day, but until that day came, neither of them paid much attention to the prospect. It would happen, or it wouldn't. In the meantime, they partnered up whenever it was mutually beneficial to do so.
They had been in the air for less than an hour when the pirates struck. The attack had been vicious and well coordinated. Though the duo managed to escape, they were forced to crash land in an uncharted system. Rusty had tried to scout their surroundings when one of the aliens had tried to take a bite out of his apparently tasty HRD ass.
Something told him things would get worse before they got better.
The three other creatures paused, suddenly wary. The tables had been turned. Prey could turn violent when cornered, they knew that well, but rarely with such ferocity. Their glittering multifaceted eyes were not the eyes of dumb animals, but of sentient beings who could think, who could plan.
The leader of the pack let out a long, chittering wail as the Shard leveled the massive rifle. They recognized that there was danger on an instinctual level and took several steps back.
The species wasn't one that the gunsmith had encountered before. Their flanks were covered with short green fur, thick and coarse, and their backs armored with thick chitin. Their heads seemed overlarge for their bodies, supporting massive jaws layered with rows of jagged, sharklike teeth. Long, muscular legs propelled their sinuous bodies with frightening speed when necessary. They limbs terminated in nimble hands, with three forward facing fingers and rearward facing thumbs. The thumbs were tipped with flat, almost daggerlike talons.
Individually, the creatures weren't large, only about a meter from snout to rump, but they clearly worked as a pack to make up for it.
"Laguz, you awake?" Rusty called, his back towards the wreckage of the freighter.
This was supposed to have been an easy mission. He had a load of armaments that needed to be delivered to a small band of mercenaries trying to get a start in the Mid Rim. Their leader had seemed pleasant enough, and had deep enough pockets to pay for the goods upfront. Their mission statement was to curtail the excesses of Force Users through superior arms and tactics, a sentiment Rusty could get behind easily. And so he had agreed to meet them in person with the first shipment, in order to work out contractual details for continued business.
He had hired his shapeshifting friend, [member="Laguz Vald"], as a bodyguard. "Friend" might have been an odd term for the both of them, but that was the most accurate way to describe their relationship. They enjoyed each other's company, they worked well together as a team, and their joint ventures were usually profitable. There was always a chance that they would end up on opposite sides of a contract one day, but until that day came, neither of them paid much attention to the prospect. It would happen, or it wouldn't. In the meantime, they partnered up whenever it was mutually beneficial to do so.
They had been in the air for less than an hour when the pirates struck. The attack had been vicious and well coordinated. Though the duo managed to escape, they were forced to crash land in an uncharted system. Rusty had tried to scout their surroundings when one of the aliens had tried to take a bite out of his apparently tasty HRD ass.
Something told him things would get worse before they got better.