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Location: Ord Cestus
Time: 0900
Location: Outland village
Sometimes the power to change the galaxy doesn't come in large grand places, sometimes it comes from the smallest of locations. The humble back roads and sleepy little hamlets were at times were the place that produced people and objects that turned the galaxy into chaos or bring order to it. It had taken months of scanning systems, but with the war between the mandalorians and the primeval finished with the mandos barely clinging on to life it freed up pressure around that area of space. And with people now free from the threat of death from the religious zealots, mouths started talking, and lips flapping. Rumors that the mask once lost was now returned and was being kept safe by a wise old grizzled Mandalorian by the name of Deacon. But it was time to relieve the good man of his burden and do what we do best.
Dust kicked kicked up and a sand storm was blowing in towards the small village of Kowl, and with it riding atop the backs of beasts were outlaws here to take what was not theirs to have. The small village made of wood and stone watched as the riders grew closer, their images rippled from afar from the morning sun.
Coming into town the men and women slowly entered their homes and businesses one by one until there was nothing but a tumbleweed blowing through the Main Street of the small town. Taking their steeds the riders entered the once quiet town of Kowl, they wore black bandanas against their faces to conceal their identities and guns at their hips and backs to show everyone that they meant business. The leader of the bunch who was clearly a woman halted her riding beast at the center of Main Street.
"DEACON!!!" She yelled out to town.
"BRING IT OUT AND NO ONE NEEDS TO GET HURT!!" The woman yelled out again and waited.
There was no response, only silence from the small town. Only a tense feeling that loomed in the air dawning over everyone like a blanket poised to smother everyone beneath it. The Black Ties were here to pull of one glorious heist with galactic level repercussions.
Being sold that there would be a chance to use her skills as she petted her rifle that was hanging at her mounts side. Beside it wasn't every day one could say that they came in time like a wildcat ready to tare some throats. Either way she was ready for what every the wind blew her way it was high time she did something about.
Speaking of high, as she looked up into the sky with her fancy shade glasses on. It seem to be almost high noon as some would like to call it on this long one dirty town. Even then she couldn't help but stiffen her knees and stand up in the riding saddle. It would seem like a quiet place or was there fear that she was sense with her force ability either way this should make for a fun time.
"Beer for my mount, whiskey for my ladies." as she winked at the two ladies with her.
Stardust was half dragged half brides...OK OK she was told by [member="James Justice"] that she was needed to steal something...normal day as a pirate really
She had of her face covered...save for her mouth and eyes...she almost looked like a female tusken..course her clothing was all black as well...a mysterious and dangerous being to run into on her mount..sith katana on her right sabers hidden under her clothes blaster rifle sling across her back...either fear, excitement or both hung in the air...
Vodka for the dragon*she said and chuckled..she actually could use something firey right now....
[member="Seanna Vel"]
[member="Miss Blonde"]
"Blondie, there be no need to yell," James grumbled.
He looked out from under the brim of his hat. Judging by the way that the spacer's eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the small town, one would say it looked like he had been staring into the sun too long. Well, that was not too entirely true. His leather jacket would have had the spacer more than burning up at this point, he has left it aboard she ship in favor of a lighter, less heat-conductive long trench-coat that seemed to have been made with dust on it.
When they had landed planetside James insisted on being called Rooster Cogburn the duration of their time on the surface. Why? The writer watched too many John Wayne movies. Moreover, the Spacer had a name that carried and preferred to commit this dead with autonomy. He pulled a cigarette to his lips and let out a puff of smoke.
"Deacon, bring it out and no one has to die," James yelled, letting the smoke through with each word. Dust and the white cloud were caught up in a hot breeze, sending them both sideways. "If ye dun't do what we be wanting, I will ride in and take ye down meself. I know ye know who I am, Deacon. Let's do this reasonable like."
The spacer gave Miss Blonde a sidways look. A little elbow grease, a little push, a little "you know who I am so do what I want" was how he rolled. There was no need for voilence--except when there was a need for it.
My wasn't that statement a work of brilliance? The writer sat back and began to enjoy the praise for it as our nega-heroes sweat through their clothing from the heat.
At the back of the group that had just rode into the town, sending the populous of the small settlement scattering for cover at the perceived aura of impending trouble, a female figure wrapped in a dark brown, leather trench coat that reached down to her ankles dropped down from her mount, her heeled boots impacting with the rust coloured sand and kicking up a small cloud of dust at the impact, coating both the trench coat and boots in even more dust. Patting her mount of the side of its neck, running a calming hand along its flank, in doing so, she caused the metal bracers she wore on her wrists to catch the glaring rays of the sun. Reaching up to her stetson hat with the same hand that had just been ran along the side of the mount caused the trench coat to be pulled to the side to expose the expensive looking waistcoat, crisp white shirt and black tie beneath along with the long dagger and numerous blaster and slugthrower pistols.
Removing the stetson hat revealed the green, scaled skin and the unique extended Falleen head ridges that, instead, formed crests found on most lizard species of Dyxra'a Khoez, also known as The Serpent; a play on her reptilian features. Holding her hat under her right arm, Dyxra'a reached towards the long sheath that had been fastened to the side of the creature that had carried her through the desert with a black lace glove covered hand, a glove that allowed for the extended claws to remain unrestricted. Pulling on the exposed, leather wrapped handle revealed the sheathed item to be an innocuous looking metal cane with the word 'Janus' carved along its spine in a cursive and elaborate script.
Leaning her weight upon the cane, Dyxra'a made her way towards the small, gathered group of the woman that Dyxra'a knew as Miss Blonde, the leader of the Black Tie Syndicate, and the man that she knew as The Runner; although he had requested that every call him Rooster Cogburn for the entirety of their time on Ord Cestus for a reason that Dyxra'a did not care to figure out nor understand. As the walked at a steady pace, her head titled back slightly as she luxuriated in the feeling of the heat of the sun warming her cold blood, Dyxra'a's steel blue eyes flickererd from building to building, window to window, looking for any hidden assailant as her natural instinct was to do so whenever she entered an unknown location.
Miss Blonde rolled her eyes at James' statement and audibly sighed, she really didn't want to back his delusions and fantasies of being an outlaw on the frontier. Pinching the bridge of her nose the woman lifted her head and yelled out to the small town.
"His name is Rooste-" She looked over to James and cut herself off.
"Do I really need to say this?" There was a pause and blonde looked back to the town.
"His name is Rooster Cogburn and he's the fastest gun this side of the Corellian trade route! If you know what's good for you, you'll reach to the sky partner! And bring out the goods!!" The woman yelled to the man and let out a groan afterwards.
After a few minutes of silence the town Marshall exited the saloon with his hands up and spoke.
"Deacon don't live here!!" the man shouted
"The hell did he just say?" Patricia said as she looked to her posse.
"WHAT!?" She yelled to the man.
"I say! He ain't live here!!" The man shouted back.
"I CANT HEAR YOU!!" Miss Blonde yelled in retort.
"HE AINT HERE!! HE COMES FOR SUPPLIES EVERY WEEK!! HE LIVE SIX KILOMETERS THAT WAY!! SMALL CABIN!!" The Marshall shouted at the top of his lungs and Patricia heard him this time.
"OH!! OKAY!! THANK YOU!!" Blonde thanked the man then looked to her murder posse.
"Vel and Star stay along with the rest of the gang and raid the town. Look for Deacon, they might be lying. Don't kill anyone though, runner, serpent and I will ride out for this cabin." Miss Blonde gave her orders and then looked to James before snapping her reigns and riding off into the horizon.
Where normally Keira would have unflinchingly associated herself with the Black Ties this time she had hesitated, and with understandable reason. While she was adjusted to living a number of different lives in order to keep business separate from most other facets, there was a time when the line had to be drawn, and she had found it. Through a series of peace talks she had come to find herself a member of the Clans, for all intents and purposes one of their own. It just so happened that this mission to claim the Mask of Mand'alor coincided with that one particular, and so she hadn't shown her face, remaining seemingly out of the picture as far as this one objective went. However, she wasn't as absent as that might suggest.
Inside of one of those buildings that supposedly served as a safe abode for the villagers she resided, fully armored with her helmet on the table before her. At this point she was doing nothing more than making final adjustments, being certain that the wrist rocket was primed if it became a necessity. Given nothing more than a careful shift of her left hand the vibroblade concealed in that gauntlet springing outwards. Admiring the hidden lethality of that single weapon it retreated back into its sheathe once more. It was then Thalia decided to materialize from the holoprojector integrated into the armor on the inside of her left wrist. "Databases indicate that the odds of the Mask being located here are barely over fifty percent. Sixty-seven percent at best."
Stifling a sigh, she nodded. "Yeah, I figured. But we're here to make sure the aruetiise don't get it in the first place, no matter how low the risk. It belongs to the Mandalorians." A slight frown washed over the shimmering hologram of her AI companion. "These are your friends, correct? These supposed 'outsiders'?" For just a moment she looked away from the miniature image of the woman hovering above her arm, unsure of how to retort and uncertain if she even wanted to. "I don't know." Her voice was a whisper, a hoarseness translating into it due to the strong emotion that ran like a blade through her. "It's complicated right now. But I know where my loyalties lie, and that's all that matters." A stern look was granted her before the projection winked out, and she pulled her helmet on, sealing it to the rest of the armor.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Those were the words that accompanied her as she stepped outside, the components of her armor keeping the temperature regulated to comfortable levels. "No. But I'm here, aren't I?"
Couldn't help but roll her eyes to the fact of what was being talked about after all she was nothing but a hired gun will at less it was something to do so she wasn't so bored all the time. Even so she couldn't help but have a smirk upon her lips as she told her what was going down.
"Sure then, sweet cheeks." as she lick her lisp in a a way that the Marshal seem to not like but for a moment she couldn't help but feel that hit on the next question.
"So where is the vault keep." as the answer came back to didn't have one. AFter which time waving her hand she couldn't help but pull of her riding glove.
"If you don't tell me and this sweet thing over there, then I'll just have to get out of you." as if that wasn't enough but a grin could take place only after which time she could see something more of fear take place. It was times like this that her own special abilities came into play.
"oh come out come out where every you are." as she raised the one off the ground at the same time she turn him upside down looking for what could only be what would fall out of his pockets.
"What do you think sister, sweet isn't he." as she went over to him flashing a smile. "Care to hold him for a second." as she started to touch the objects some just coins that fell out of her pockets coming to the chance one or two had been in this vault.
Staardust remained silent as ever keeping her mount calm through the force while half listening...she didn't care much as long as the money came after
It'll be done ma'am "she said as she got off and patted her mount following [member="Seanna Vel"], she scanned the area...maybe she could find a drink or something..she really could use one
Yea don't any of these towns without the holonet have one..ID assumed so" she said walking past Deanna to let her do her thing...she had a idea "hey I'll be in the bar gonna get something strong" she said and walked into the bar as she caught glance of the man being turned up side down
As she entered she got many glances..some of fear others of hostility... She didn't care and sat down"I'll have a vodka..strongest you got "she said in which the bartender served a glass with a shaking hand" thank you
She downed the glass as she could feel movement behind her..so they wanted to play unfair huh
She turned to see several patrons standing up with a assortment of makeshift weapons and such"hmmm I come for a drink and now look at this
Standing just behind Miss Blonde, her face seeming carved out of granite as it usual, a stoic expression of emotionless that hardly ever changed, was Dyxra'a who was staring at the swinging doors of the Saloon, her gaze long since pulled from surveying the area towards the barely visible bottles of alcohol stocked behind a polished, wooden bar. Just as Dyxra'a's reptilian tongue had retreated back between her lips after licking them after catching sight of a fully exposed bar after a man had emerged from the building, she jolted out of her stupor as the voice of Miss Blonde shouted just by her head, assaulting her sensitive hearing sharply and making her whole body flinch away from the loud noise. The whole time, her expression refused to change.
Shaking her head, Dyxra'a flicked her apathetic gaze between Miss Blonde and the man as they shouted to each other in a situation that many would consider humourous but Dyxra'a considered a waste time before shrugging her shoulders with a sigh and returning back to her mount in search of one of the bottles of finely aged alcohol that she had brought with her when she had considered and fear that the only alcohol she would be able find on the planet would not even be worth her pissing it out. However, she halted mid-stride for a moment as Miss Blonde spoke her name, assigning her with her given task, before continuing on. Only the four lieutenants of T.O.L, her gang back on Nar Shaddaa, would be able to read Dyxra'a's sudden shift in posture as to understand that she was saddened about her chance to enjoy her drink was stolen from her.
Sliding her cane back into the sheath fastened to the flank of her mount, Dyxra'a wrapped her lace covered hands around the reins and pulled herself up onto the saddle. Shifting slightly to settle herself, trench coat fulling open as she did so, Dyxra'a replaced her stetson atop of her crests before pulling it low so that the brim of the hat cast her face into a deep shadow. Clicking her tongue sharply and gently pulling at the leather reins to turn her mount around before snapping her heels and directing it to follow after Miss Blonde.
Letting her mount's speed slow once she drew level with Miss Blonde and The Runner, Dyxra'a twisted in her seat to remove one of the hip flasks that she had strapped to her back before offering it first to Miss Blonde. "It's not the good stuff, but do you want some." Her accented tone was curt and snappish, showing that her display of manners was nothing more than following social protocol.
"Try not to get killed!!" Miss Blonde yelled to her men as the three rode off.
With the Runner and the Serpent at each of her side with her up the middle the three rode hard as their steeds pounded their feet against the desert floor. The sun beaded down on trio of outlaws as the proceeded in the heading that they were given. She had faith in her men that they could handle the town and make sure Deacon wasn't hiding there. But she didn't feel that it was likely the man was there. Mandalorians had the honor system and if he was then the man would of come out to face his challengers, they were all John Wayne like that.
"Not right now! We'll celebrate after we get the mask!!" Miss Blonde had to yell over the stampeding sounds of the beasts legs hitting the ground.
They had covered a few kilometers already and then that's when they saw it, the saw the small cabin in the distance Patricia was pretty happy that she didn't have to go back to the town and blow the marshals brains all over the desert floor.
"Get your guns ready! I doubt this guy is going to go quiet!" Blonde said to the two of them.
After a few more minutes of riding the three of them made it a good fifty meters away from the small wooden cabin. The place was small, quiet, very quant and some smoke rose from its chimney. Blonde stopped along with the other riders and pulled the bandana up across her face. They had a job to do and that mask was coming home with them one way or the other.
"I say we knock politely." The woman said as she reached for something.
Grabbing a semi automatic eight gauge shotgun from her side saddle the woman gripped the weapon and cocked it so a shell was chambered into the weapon.
At Miss Blonde's refusal of her offer, Dyxra'a barely spared a shrug before taking a long drink from the hipflask, mentally sighing in relief as the delicious nectar that was alcohol quenched her thirst. She did not care that her leader had refused her offer, she had only offered the blonde some of her drink for no other reason than it was expected of people to do so. She felt neither snubbed nor relieved that her offer had been refused, she held only indifference for the current situation and that too applied to her offer. She felt no anticipation for the looming prospect of a confrontation that would more than likely become hostile, nor did she feel any fear, dread or anything at all. Nothing held her attention at the moment so, as the mount betwix her legs stampeded towards the hut, her mind wandered and retreated to her Mind Foci.
Blinking her eyes open, Dyxra'a smirked in satisfaction as she ran her gaze across the room she now found herself. She was sat in a plush and very comfortable high back wooden chair, her arms resting on top of finally carved arms, before her was a polished mahogany desk covered in scattered files. Pushed against the wall opposite to her were two bookcases that seemed to disappear up past the ceiling while, at the same time, fitting the space they were in perfectly. Filling the remaining wall space were numerous pictures depicting pivitol scenes from Dyxra'a's past, however there were three large pictures. One was of a bunch of silhouetted figures gathered in an alley that were each smoking a cigarette, the smoldering of the cigarettes being the only source of illumination in the painting. The second was of an aged human male with a head of balding grey hair and a frail body, however, within his eyes there was a fire of youth. The final picture was of a faceless figure wearing a finely cut black suit, white shirt and black tie. Each of the three picture signified Dyxra'a's loyalty, her loyalty to her gang on Nar Shaddaa; T.O.L, the man who had taken her in off from the streets and taught her how to live a life as an outlaw; Jael Hes, and the Black Tie Syndicate. Behind her head, a safe was set into the wall, contained within which were her secrets and her emotions, serving as a control point for knowledge and feelings she wished to restrict and contain.
Leaning back in her chair, knowing that whatever action she made within the projection of her mind would not be carried over to her physical body, a book appeared directly into Dyxra'a's gloved hands. Slowly flipping through the book, Dyxra'a paused halfway through and settled into reading exactly where she left off, the next work forming on the page just before she needed to read it. The book itself was one that she had read years before in her youth, but it was one that had remained within her memory and often revisited. A tale of secrets, betrayal and power, it was one that intrigued the commonly apathetic Falleen.
It was after a long time had passed within the Foci, but only a short time in the physical world, before Dyxra'a snapped her book closed, it vanishing as soon as she did, and lent back in her chair, letting her eyes drift closed. In the next instant they snapped open, providing her with the view of her mount tearing towards a shack that was just under fifty meters away, the feeling of the wind buffeting at her scales and the sound of hooves impacting with the sand, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them.
Grunting at Miss Blondes' words, although Dyxra'a doubted she had heard, she released her grip of the reins with one hand, flexing the same momentary afterwards to lose the phantom feeling of leather being pulled harshly against her scales, before reaching to her hip to un-holster one of her pistols. The pistol was a small, silver slughtrower revolver with a shining wooden grip. Carved along one side of the barrel was the word 'Nemesis'. Flicking open the cylinder, Dyxra'a ensured that all six of her bullets were loaded before flipping and recurring the cylinder within the frame with an ease that spoke of countless hours of practice with the action.
Pulling the veins sharply, Dyxra'a puller her mount to a stop next to Miss Blondes as they reached the hut. Her eyes flickered rapidly across the scene before her, a small spark of life entering her steel gaze as something required her attention and pulled her from her apathetic thoughts. Closing her eyes, Dyxra'a's eyelids flickered rapidly as her mind ran through the scene, analysing even the smallest of details.
A large amount of footprints were at the front of the door, embedded deep into the mud and overlapping each other, but a recent set could be seen coming from around the back of the hut towards the door. The front of the footprint pointed towards the door, suggesting that the man they were after had not yet left, however, the deepest impression was at the toes. When someone walked forwards, the deepest impression would be at the heel, as that was wear the weight would initially be placed before it would be spread across the entirety of the foot. Deacon had walked backwards in the attempt to make it look like he had only recently entered his home.
The smoke rising from the chimney would indicate that he was, in fact home, but when Dyxra'a compared the smoke recently raising from the lip of the chimney to smoke that had already risen, she came to the conclusion that the fire had been put out. The thicker white colour showed that recent amounts of moisture had been added to a flame, suggesting that Deacon had poured water over it, while the slowing velocity at which it escaped suggested that the pressure was lessening and dispersing, meaning the fire was out. Dyxra'a came to the conclusion that Deacon was most likely waiting for them to drop their guard to attack and that he was not in his home at all. But, at the same time, there was something within that hut that he wished to protect, otherwise he could of worsened the fire and used the building as a trap, use it to cook them alive.
Turning to Miss Blonde as she cocked the shotgun, Dyxra'a shrugged, the fire in her eyes already smothered as she once more lacked something to draw her interest. "I do not care as to whether or not you decide to... 'knock'. But I do not believe that it is not necessary at all. It is my opinion that Deacon is not even within this hut. Take this however you will." Shrugging again, Dyxra'a slid down off of her mount, tightening her grip around Nemesis as she withdrew Janus from its sheath with her left hand, holding the cane in a forward sword grip.
[member="Miss Blonde"] | [member="James Justice"]
OOC Note:
I don't know you'll have any issues with this post, but if you do have any, just let me know.
Almost before her physical senses had caught up Keira was instantly aware that she wasn't alone, her awareness in the ethereal having picked out [member="Seanna Vel"]'s own sensitivity to the energy field along with detecting [member="Stardust"], though she was paid little mind given she wasn't close enough to cause trouble just yet. No fight would be instigated prematurely on her part. If at all possible she was content with all parties walking away from the encounter, but if it came down to it she wouldn't hesitate to do what was necessary. "Nothing has been detected that should be an issue." The conversation with the AI was confined to her helmet, no one else able to listen in. "Doesn't matter. We're not here to fight unless they start something."
In a sort of antithesis to that she raised her right hand, the collapsed and concealed pistol that was attached to her forearm forming in her grasp in a matter of seconds, a potentially deadly weapon materializing where once there had been nothing. With a casual air that seemed to underplay her violent capabilities the firearm was leveled directly at the redhead. "That doesn't seem like avoiding a fight to me." Ignoring the sarcastic comment she pulled the hammer back, deactivating the safety. Her voice was steady, if not slightly modulated by the helmet she wore, and it was doubtful she would be recognized unless the others knew her intrinsically. "You're going to tell me where Patricia and the others went, and I can assure you nobody will get hurt. Once you do I'll leave, and we can forget any of this ever happened. That sound like a plan to you?"
James rode along, his new alias Rooster Cogburn branded along. There was nothing new about it, honestly. The spacer's name had come to be famous lately, and he needed aliases to fly under. Rooster had been one that he aquirred for this portion of the galaxy. He liked to keep his identities with their own nuances within their respective zones.
He nodded to Miss Blonde's suggestion, drawing his DeathHammer, 'I tell ye what, I will take the front door, one of ye sneak in, the other lay and wait, just to be sure-- in case he decides to run for it."
The spacer dismounted slightly clumsily, shooting Miss Blonde a dirty look, he knew what she was going to say, 'I am not intoxicated,' he paused before adding, "yet."
Runner swaggered towards the door, his usual self, full of confidence and commanding attention. He kicked up dust with each of his boot-clad steps.
"Deacon," he bellowed, "Ye know this is me. Rooster Cogburn," he made sure his voice was plenty loud enough to distract from any noise that the other ladies were making, "I know what ye got, and ye know what I want. Let's just make it simple like on ye, and hand it over. Ye know what I will do if ye dun't so dun't make me do that. Just hand it over and we will all walk away dandy-like, ye hear me?"
"Serpent, you have the best eyes here. He's here alright, but whether or not he's in the building is debatable. Cover me." Miss Blonde jumped off her mount then looked over to her scale covered comrade and nodded.
Miss blonde took her shotgun and carried it in the at the ready position as she walked towards the left near an old broke down speeder. With her head on a swivel the woman kept her eyes peeled and began to note the little details of everything through situational awareness, whatever was going on it certainly didn't feel right.
The air around her felt cold and soon after the force screamed at her that danger was coming, that something was happening and it was bad. Taking a large leap the spot where she was standing exploded in a bright spray of fire and violence. Miss Blonde quickly recovered and rolled over to look up and trace a trail of smoke from a rocket up to a water tower next to the cabin.
"Up top! Four o'clock!!" the woman yelled as she aimed her shotgun up at the tower where a blur of movement jetted around towards the other side of it.
With a hail of semi automatic buck shot the woman laid down some suppressing fire, but sadly things weren't all as they seemed. While miss blonde had a lock on their target it seemed the door in front of James was a trap. The man would have only seconds to react as the sound of a long flat beep went off to the tune of "that's definitely a bomb."
Within a flash the bomb would explode around the size of a thermal det, whoever Deacon was, he was serious.
Nodding back at Miss Blonde, the diminutive Falleen slowly began to advance towards the hut, maintaining a constant short distance between her and the blonde woman, her disinterested eyes flickering from place to place as she sought for a sighting on the target, for a sighting of the only thing that could currently draw her out of her boredom. Nemisis was held in a loose grip, hanging close to her right hip. Boots compressing the sand beneath her feet with barely audible sound, Dxyra'a's head began to slowly move from side to side in the hopes that she would catch something out of her peripheral vision that she would otherwise miss.
Her actions were only broken an explosion of heat and flame occurred only a short distance from her. Whipping around, Dyxra'a watched as Miss Blonde landed from the jump she had just made, a jump that was the only reason that the crime boss still maintained her place within the living realm. Following the slowly dispersing trail of smoke that had been left behind by the rocket that had just been shot, Dyxra'a brought Nemesis around, following the path of her vision, to rest at the top of the water tower.
With a twitch of her finger the trigger of the six load revolver was compressed, causing the hammer to fire one of the six bullets towards where she aimed. When the bullet impacted the high pitched sound of metal ricocheting off of other metal as it impacted against a sheet of metal that now filled the space that the head of Deacon once did after he ducked down out of sight. Barely even a second later, the shots that Miss Blonde had fired impacted against the exact same spot, yielding the exact same result.
"Five." The single word was muttered under her breathe as a dark and bloodlust filled smile stretched across the short woman's face, a spark of sadistic enjoyment flaring to life within her eyes. Said eyes were busy searching for the reappearance of her prey and they continued to do so even as the warmth of an explosion washed against her side and small bits of shrapnel harmlessly impacted with her trench coat. The only reaction she had to the explosion was the thought: 'My prediction of him using the hut as a trap was correct.'
"Deacon, I don't want to come in there but ye force me," James shouted his hand wrapping around the nob.
A raw tingle of pure Danger roared through James' mind and body, sending him taking a leap back from the wooden door he had been harassing. The tale--tell sound of a bomb preparing to go off, triggered by his hand upon the door resounded. Empowered by the Force, James turned and dashed towards the edge of the small hut's porch. As the Spacer dove for cover, the hut exploded.
Shrapnel bits of wood flew overhead, with a wave of pure heat and concussion. He waited for several moments as the heat and shock rolled over his person harmlessly. James rolled over, giving a grunt. He moved to rise and a sharp stabbing pain ran through his thing.
"Feth."
A foot long splinter of wood had decided to make its home along the outside of his thigh. James grit his teeth a moment, examining the wound. It was harmless, a flesh wound, leaving major blood flows untouched. He wrapped his hands around it, bracing himself for two breaths before-- "FEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
The splinter came out cleanly, panting and cursing it off, the spacer gingerly wrapped his leg's wound off with his bandanna. After a moment he rose to his feet and began limping towards his female comrades, "I got true grit, that's for sure....."
With enemy suppressed Patricia took it upon herself to roll up her sleeve and point her own wrist rocket at the tower, nobody tried to blow her up and get away with it, she had a reputation to maintain. Just letting people shoot at her all willy nilly just wasn't going to fly. So not having seen the man jump down or buzz off with a jetpack the crime lord steadied her aim then yelled.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" she said as a warning to the serpent and runner.
The rocket screamed forward with a loud whistle through the desert air, it only took but a moment before the bright flash of the explosion went off with water spilling flying every which way. Like a hard rain coming down on her hat the water soon stopped and Patricia took a deep breath as she stood up and dusted herself off.
"Runner! Stop caterwauling and get your ass up." Patricia said as she stepped forward and looked over the serpent.
"You alright?" Blonde asked the serpent.
But before she could get a response a red blaster bolt shot through the vapor of mist that was once the water tower right past her head barely missing by a few inches.
"Next ones going between your eyes, pilgrim." a strong and sturdy weathered gvoice said from within that mist.
[media] https://youtu.be/Z8qkHwszVUc [/media]
The humanoid figure appeared through the smoke and mist of the collapsed water tower, stepping through the details began to show. Wearing full mandalorian combat beskar armor, minus the infamous T-visor helmet. The old weathered mando known as Deacon held two blaster pistols in his hands and had one aimed at James and the other at Miss Blonde. Upon his head he wore a tan cowboy hat that kept the sun out of his eyes, with a serious look on his face he stared at all three people in front of him and narrowed his eyes.
"If you're looking for the mask, I ain't got it no more. It's somewhere safe, so this is yer last chance. Get off my land and I'll let ya walk." Deacon said his voice still strong as he potentially looked death in the face.
"Serpent, when I say so. Take him on the chest." Blonde said as she leveled her shotgun at the man.
"We know you have it Deacon! Just bring it out an no one has to die!" Blonde said as she cocked her shotgun.
"Even if I did have it, i'd never give it to the likes of you." he said calmly.
"Guess that ends this conversation then doesn't it?" Blonde retorted back.
"Spose so." The man primed the two pistols with a hum then sharpened his aim.
"I'm sorry it had to end this way for you." Patricia said in her normal speaking voice.
"NOW!!" Patricia held her shotgun up and the mando fired in almost the blink of an eye.
One bolt headed right towards James' chest if he didn't move or let his coat take the hit he'd be in for a desert burial. As for Patricia the bolt slammed into her shotgun causing her to fly backwards and hit the ground, leaving Dyxra'a open for a clean shot to the Mando's chest.
Flinching slightly as the water tower detonated into a mix of heat, pressure and freezing water vapour, Dyxra'a twisted her body to the right slightly, boots sliding across the loose sand and stetson hat falling back off her head to expose her crests, as she brought her left arm, the one wielding Janus, up to cover her face, hiding behind the loose sleeve of her now dust caked trench coat. Even then, the warm blooded Falleen hissed as she felt a spray of water vapour coat bother her clothes and any scales she had exposed in a fine layer of cold water. The feeling of such was like a bolt of lightning directly to her nervous system, especially where the water had landed on her extremely sensitive crests.
Hissing constantly under her breathe, Dyxra'a lowered her raised left arm while keeping her right arm up, the barrel of Nemisis trained on the slowly settling cloud of water. Even when Miss Blonde lowered her guard, Dyxra'a kept her weapon trained on the last location of Deacon, refusing to relax until she had put a bullet through the head of his slowly cooling body. However, as the freezing water seemed to slowly seeped deeper into her body, Dyxra'a found her steady stream of hissed, Falleen curses becoming more descriptive in nature as she lent more and more weight onto Janus, using it exactly as its appearance suggested, while her aim began to dip lower as a piecing headache began to originate from where her crests met skull.
When the red bolt of energy fly out of the cloud, passing only inches from the head of Miss Blonde, Dyxra'a returned fire with a shot of her own, only to hiss an annoyed "Four," as she a small patch of sand be kicked up into the air, marking the location that the bullet had his the ground. A good two feet in front of Deacon and three to his left.
Toning out the world around her and attempting to ignore the chill of the water, Dyxra'a focused on steadying her aim, lining up the sight of Nemesis dead center of Deacon's chest. As much as she would love to put the bullet between his eyes, or switch to her Heretic and reduce him to disintegrated dust, the job called for him to be alive and she wanted her pay more than her revenge. That could always come later on.
When the opening she was waiting for appeared, Dyxra'a didn't hesitate to fire. The time she had spent focusing on correcting her aim had been put to use and, this time, the bullet hit true, impacting Deacon directly in the center of the chest.
James saw the bolt coming toward his chest, even with the Force heightening his reflexes, the seering pain in his leg slowed him down almost too much. The spacer twisted on his good leg, the blaster bolt flew by across his chest. As James set his leg down, it screamed out, sending him retreating back several more steps, trying to find something to lean on.
His back slammed against a roaring hot durasteel plate from what was left of the burning shack. "DAMN IT!"
James lurched forward, blinking away blurred vision from the pure agony his body had been put through in a matter of a few minutes. He shook it off, letting his rage and furry shove it out of his mind. No, it was time to charge the hell out of this stupid Deacon. He was about to wish he had not only never messed with James, but that he had never been born.
The spacer sprinted forward, even though his leg told him that it was unwise. The damage would be taken care of later. Vengeance now. He reached into his coat, whipping out a long chain as he came on Deacon. The Mando was struggling to stand from the shot the Falleen had delt to him. He raised his weapon at James, only to have it knocked clear with a whip from his hand by the chain. James snapped his wrist, bring the chain back down in a brutal slash. And another. And another. Furry threatened to take over James' body as he began beating Deacon savagely.
