No Safe Haven

[Khal'Kru]

Equipment: See Here, 2x Thud Bugs, 2x Razor Bugs, 2x Blast Bugs, 2x Snap Bugs, 2x Blorash Jelly

Wayland, a world that had once been shaped by Khal’s people, a world brought to the edge of destruction, nearly uninhabitable to any that weren’t the chosen race. That situation had been made worse nearly a century later by the foolish aiding the Jedi in an attempt to terraform the world. The thought brought a slight smirk to the gray-skinned individual. His people forever the slaves, jumping at the opportunity of “assisting” others when they were doing nothing but serving them. The fools. Khal’Kru thought as he made his way through the underbrush. All around smoke billowed high into the air, in the Vongs wake two sets of armor lay on the ground, the limbs twisted at odd, disgusting angles, the T-shaped visors shattered revealing dead eyes that lay within, blood pooling beneath them.

Mouth shifting Khal spat out to the side, his head not even turning. The single glob of blood landed amidst the thick grass. Ahead of the warrior, he could still hear the pounding of feet, grass being shoved aside. Hissing, the figure's mouth opened revealing two rows of wickedly sharpened teeth, inhuman. Those violet eyes glowed with energy, with excitement. “And they call themselves the warriors.”

Khal had come hunting since his return to the galaxy at large tales had been told about the great Mandalorians. The thought alone caused the self-proclaimed prophet to roll his eyes. The stories spoke of how they were beginning to forcefully separate themselves from the force. The simpletons were doing what Khal had nearly died trying to fix. To be dead to the force wasn’t natural, it was in fact like being blind to a different part of life. Cut off from the awesome potential it offered. Perhaps if it had been that alone Khal would’ve let it pass, but no. They were using his people’s technology to do such a thing. Once more others took advantage of the Vong. It was time to send a message.

Feet hammering against the ground the Mando trooper tossed a glance back over his shoulder, nothing visible behind him. He and a squad had been sent out only two days prior to scout the twisted, devastated landscape due to reports of “suspicious activity” If only Marr had followed his gut. The warrior knew he shouldn’t have volunteered, that he should’ve stayed behind on this one mission. It all began the first night. The squad was woken by the screams of one of their own, Kisam, their leader, his vode. He’d been snatched away in the dead of night, the group went out in search but when they found the sergeant he’d been split from neck to waist down the center, his intestines pooled at his feet, mouth agape a stream of blood flowing from it.

Coming to a halt, hand resting against the thick tree trunk Marr looked around. The Mandalorians were said to be warriors capable of standing amidst the ranks of Jedi and Sith. Yet here he was fleeing an unknown threat. He’d never seen anything like it. Fear gripped his heart. A slight rustling came from behind, spinning on his heels, slugthrower rifle raised the man opened up. The butt of the rifle kicking back into his chest. Finger releasing the trigger at the sound of a wounded yelp Marr watched a Garral fall out the brush enough holes that it more resembled a block of cheese. Chest rising and falling Marr attempted to steady his breathing when from behind the real attack came. A hiss cut through the air, the warrior turned his rifle firing. Five shots cut through the air, echoing across the wilderness, a blood-curdling scream followed, then everything went silent.

[member="Keira Verd"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Keira hadn't been a part of the initial group that scouted Wayland. She had known there were reports of suspicious activity on the planet, but with more immediately pressing issues at hand, she'd let others deal with it. There wasn't much their empire couldn't handle, after all they'd been through to get to where they were. Days later, however, reports came in that the patrol had gone missing under violent, unknown circumstances, and that another group would need to be sent in to quell the threat. For that she had volunteered, knowing where her strengths lay and unwilling to let more of the vode die for no good reason. Whatever was out there, she would find it, and it would end by her hands.

The bodies had been brought back to the camp, preserved in all their gore for the reinforcements to examine and decide exactly how to approach whatever it was they were facing. After more than enough time observing the dead and talking strategy she stepped outside the tent for air, pulling on her helmet and sighing quietly. The HUD sprung to life with numerous readings, and with a few shifts of her eyes she cleared the visual clutter, keeping only that which was most essential. None of them were certain what had done this to their people, and so all of them were going in blind. It was odds no warrior liked, but it was necessary to protect their own.

Early the next morning she departed the camp on her own, fully armored and armed to the teeth, as per usual. They had all been advised not to venture into the wilds alone, but she didn't intend to stray too far. Any of them were only a call away, and she was confident enough in her ability to handle whatever threats lurked. It was easier to think alone, and she needed time to reason through what had happened. They had two dead Mandalorians, both bodies mutilated, with no sign as to who was responsible. It was too calculated to be wild animals, and she wasn't aware of any enemies they had made; or at least, none so dedicated as to go to all this trouble.

The scanners within her helmet pored over her surroundings at a steady rate, but so far all readings had come back normal, even after everything the planet had been through. A curse escaped under her breath, but she kept walking, ever vigilant for whatever predator had made the mistake of challenging their people. She stopped walking once she reached the scene of the second death, fingers tracing the bullet holes in the trunks of the trees. The only blood to match them was that of the dead Mandalorian, which meant their target was still uninjured and fully prepared to kill again.

She continued on her way, sending back another ping with her location to the main camp.

Better safe than sorry.

[member="Khal'Kru"]

 

[Khal'Kru]

The Manadalorians were no better than filthy non-sentient creatures, as Khal’Kru had expected more had come to the campsite though this time it wasn’t a simple squad. They brought enough individuals that the Yuuzhan Vong remained well out of their distance peering over a hill down upon the camp. His handiwork painted the site, it was a glorious thought to have the so-called “warriors” in a frenzy wondering what had attacked and defeated their people. Sinking into the thick grass as a figure exited the tent, Khal’s gray body drabbed in the black armor of the Vonduun Skerr Kyrric, the living crab that protected the Vong. The mqaaq’it eyes that adorned Khal’s skull and glowed a magnificent magenta as they watched their prey break off from the pack.

Moving through the grass, barely disturbing it Khal began to close in on the figure, it was a fool’s errand to break off from the safety of a group, to think oneself strong enough to handle themselves in the wild of such a dangerous and when facing as dangerous a foe as Khal’kru. He’d show this one what it meant to be a true warrior, not in just strength, but skill. They made their way to the tree that had been their allies death. Khal could barely contain a chuckle as he thought back to the Mandalorian, his shrieks of fear, and agony as Khal tore him apart. The begging for mercy, the fear radiating off in palatable waves.

Left hand reaching to his living bandoleer Khal drew one of his blast bugs, it resting between his fingers as the woman examined the staging area of what would soon be her battle… Her grave. In the right hand, the amphistaff that lay coiled around the Vong’s arm slithered up the upper portion of its body becoming rigid as the rest wrapped itself around his forearm bracing itself. Left hand flicking out the bug whistled through the air, not at the woman’s back, no at her feet. A hiss escaped the Vong’s lips commanding the biot its time had come, its purpose served.

Slamming into the ground the bug would explode with a force exceeding that of even a thermal detonator, the fiery ball of heat reaching out to engulf the Mandalorian, the kinetic force from the explosion meant to throw her to the ground. Simultaneous with the explosion Khal pounced to his feet, his thunderous footfalls bringing him closer to his prey. Right hand poised for a strike.

[member="Keira Verd"]

 

[Keira Priest]

The explosion threw her off her feet, and when Keira did hit the ground it was hard and on her back, the plating there thankfully taking the brunt of it. When she hit the ground again she pushed off with her forearm, turning the movement into a roll that allowed her to land in a crouch. Pulling her rifle from her back she sent five shots downrange, intended as suppressing fire rather than anything explicitly deadly this early on. From there she moved into cover, back pressed up against one of the many trees in the vicinity as her helmet's scanners went to work discerning just what she was up against.

At the same time she sent another communication back to the camp in order to warn them that she'd run into trouble, and that if she needed them later it would be best to avoid the obvious, direct route. For now she could handle this by herself, but depending on what and how many she was up against, that could change quickly. And as age caught up to her, she was a lot less optimistic about taking on unforeseen challenges alone. More and more she was beginning to appreciate another having her back, no matter when and where she happened to be.

The three-hundred-sixty-degree vision her helmet afforded let her look over her surroundings without having to risk ducking her head out from cover, and she cursed when she recognized not the who, but the what she was up against. The Vong were a species she hadn't faced in decades' time, but given her history it was impossible not to know one when she saw it. What brought them to Mandalorian territory she could only guess, but at the very least she'd answered the question of what killed her people.

[member="Khal'Kru"]