They Shoot, We Skor

[Joza Perl]

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[Title credit to [member="Orvo Lekarz"] congrats you win a year’s supply of purrgil jerky]​

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The Grime​

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The First Order’s attempt to wrestle Skor II from the Outer Rim Coalition had been thwarted—though not without cost. While Metrobig City saw little in the way of damage save for a few isolated spats, the Palace of the Squib King had been subjected to an orbital bombardment. The forcies of the Coalition attempted to barrier the strike, but ultimately their efforts were spread too thin. What resulted was a crumbling palace with massive damage and a mounting number of casualties as bodies were pulled from the rubble. In the sky, allied and invading fleets duked it out while several frisky space whales lost their lives.

The aftermath was not pretty, but the Coalition was regularly knee deep in scrap metal and refugees as it was. Picking up the pieces would take weeks, if not months and the long term repairs to Skor would take years. During the cleanup, the Coalition, their allies and Squibs alike take a break to kick back, celebrate their victory and partake in the alarming amount of purrgil meat that has suddenly become widely available.

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Bigfulbite Station was busy at this time of…well, it was busy all the time now. Ever since the First Order left, Coalition forces had dug in deep as they helped to rebuild the planet and increase system patrols. Not to mention the salvagers flocking planetside in order to salvage up some sweet, sweet imperial warship parts. With all the activity, life was slowly (slowly) turning back to normal on Skor II.

Spirits were high as Squibs and Coalitionites shared camaraderie over being trash pickers that somehow repelled an imperial war machine. Whatever that may have meant for their future dealings with the Order was put on the backburner, at least for tonight. String lights, some dead hung haphazardly from the various vendors aboard the station. Salvagers set up camp around their ships to share in both drink and whale barbecue. A bunch of people slipped away from the medbay to partake in the festivities.

The event was punctuated by purrgil meat cooked every which way. Purrgil steaks, meatballs, brisket, rotisserie, bacon, you name it. Their sacrifice, if that is what it was, would not be in vain.

Joza sat at the counter of a particularly loud barbecue, skewer of whale meat in one hand and a datapad in the other. They’d transported the Alliance refugees off world as soon as it had been safe to do so, hopefully to some place better than a crumbling hospital on a planet that was being assaulted. The damage from the previous bombings hadn’t been fully repaired by the time the Order had struck which had only made things more difficult. Miraculously, save for the palace area, civilian deaths had been miniscule. Which was…unexpected but not unwelcome. It made her think of the FOSB agent she and [member="Arcanus Sunstrider"] had uncovered. Had she really meant it when she said that she didn’t want any trouble at the camp?

The Zeltron waved down the Squib behind the counter, raising her voice above the din of loud customers and large qualities of sizzling meat. “Do you have any sauce? Like dipping sauce?” She’d never had purrgil meat and found it a little bland.

The blue furred man looked at her, reached under the counter and placed a salt shaker by her hand.

[OOC: This is a post Skor II invasion celebratory thread. Feel free to join if you're a faction member and/or participated in the invasion!]​

 

[Cathul Thuku]

So the newly-finished Bigfulbite Station wasn't the second Adegabaydee-class station finished, and several survivors of the battle were feasting on purrgil meat. Meanwhile, the Hall of Big-Time Heroes of Beyond-Squib Eliteness also held its induction ceremony, inside the newly-finished Metrobig Grand Casinoscam, pending repairs to the Hall, with some purrgil meat for the attendees of the ceremony. Which include survivors of the Excubitor that made it out of the escape pods collected from the cocoa fields, and other surviving officers, starfighter or line, from Therapy Command. Once again, Cathul played a pivotal role against the First Order in orbit, and so were the purrgils that died in battle. The admiral was one for the VIP treatment, and, along with the other senior officers that survived, were brought to the Grand Casinoscam in a hover limousine, all wearing their white dress uniforms, as had all the other Therapy Command survivors that were part of the ceremony. They, too, would be treated to purrgil meat cooked every which way, as would every attendee in the Casinoscam. Squib or non-Squib, virtually everyone present to the ceremony wore their fancy outfits.

"Welcome to Grand Casinoscam" the Squib majordomo told the occupants of the limousine when it arrived at the main entrance of the Casinoscam. "Come, you expected"

 

[Jorus Merrill]

BIGFULBITE STATION

The station was a cobbled-together waypoint, not one of the huge new Adegabaydees. It still felt busy compared to the Zoronhed starport where my crew had patched up the Gossamer. Right over there, [member="Joza Perl"] suggested seasoning. Half a dozen vendors promptly offered tins, tubs, shakers, shifters, and every kind of condiment suitable for whale meat.

Purrgils, so far as I understood'em, were spiritual but not self-aware, on the order of a smart dog. I snagged myself a couple skewers of whaleballs with tomo-spice, and instantly regretted it. Not for ethical reasons, and not because they weren't delicious - they were - but because I saw the mother lode in the next bay over.

Turns out purrgils have ribs. And some furry blue genius had rigged up a grill big enough for a full rack.

"Oh, mama..."

 

[Heron Graile]

"Get yer deaders! Fresh picked, ice cold! Get the full First Order pilot set with a Lieutenant Commander - priced to move faster than he did!"

Wasn't like she was the only one hawking corpses. Plenty of Squibs were in the same business. Profit margins weren't great, but between guv'mint grants and body ransoms and collectors with wonky tastes, a Squib could make a living. Or someone who could think like a Squib, see the innate respect in haggling over a body to maximize its value. Plenty of cultures believed in a final reckoning of value, be it reputation or eulogy or theistic judgment. Dinko preferred the Squib approach.

"Get yer deaders!"

 

[Coren Starchaser]

There was nothing Coren Starchaser loved more than smacking dark siders in the face and causing them to turn tail, do something outrageous and still be pushed back. Sure, he had hardly done anything. Landing and making his way to the Squib King and [member="Jaius Sovv"], mostly the latter, but still, it forced him to work on a team that was backed up by a Sith Lord. Sure, [member="Darth Metus"] wasn’t as much of a threat to the way of life Coren preferred for the galaxy than say, [member="Darth Carnifex"]. And the Knights of Ren hardly held a candle to the threat of the Sith. But still, he had a task and that task was accomplished.

What he did know, was that when he got his Chief of State safe, he had to do the Jedi thing, and lend his ability in the Force and his desire to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves. A barrier had been formed and that was the last thing he really remembered. But that was because he had been picked up from expending the energy into the meld and the barrier, passed out, and brought up to the station. Bacta dip did him well and now he was out, looking for his strike team.

[member="Romi Jade"], [member="Mishel Noren"], [member="Shia Kryze"] and even [member="Srina Talon"] and Metus were doing the good work with him. And that meant he owed them. He knew the Princess Leia had gotten free. The ship wouldn’t do anything less. But what he was doing was making his way to where he felt more signatures in the Force. Fixing his jacket he checked what gear he had with him and nodded. Everything seemed in order.

Who had been running the fleet? And what was the report from Alliance forces against the Coalition. Did they do better? Or… well, he knew the Coalition held their own, but was it at least enhanced by his people?

Ashla, he didn’t want to go to war with the Ren. That was just not in the cards.

 

[Captain Larraq]

Rygel Larraq walked the decks of a strange, ramshackled station in a distant corner of the galaxy. All around him, small blue creatures haggled over spare parts and, well... whale parts. So strange was the sight that, for a moment, Larraq wondered if he was in some sort of hell. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the bright yellow hair and blue, frilly dress of his sister and knew that he couldn't be in any hell he had ever heard of. No... Somehow... By some strange means... He had been pulled from his eternal rest within the Manda and ripped back into reality.

<Mostly anyway.> Larraq thought as he glanced down at his spectral body. Around him, there were other ghosts as well. Not many. But there were some. They drifted this way and that. Here and there, the spectral form of a ghost Purrgil drifted past the station, angry, disapproving eyes peering in through wide viewports.

Larraq stopped to stare at one of the creatures as it drifted past. It, along with the numerous others of its kind, had participated in a rather enormous battle. A battle that Larraq hadn't truly been a part of until the very end. And even then, he didn't really understand any of it. All he truly knew... was that some mad Jedi had taken it upon himself to rip a hole in the fabric of reality. And that somehow... he (and Taung knew how many others) had tumbled out through that hole.

Absently, Larraq tried once again to grab a delicious looking steak of whale meat. And, once again, Larraq watched his hand pass through the meat and the table that it sat upon. A sigh escaped Larraq. A sigh that, in all actuality, was entirely lacking in any form of air movement. "I need a drink." Larraq said flatly, entirely aware that his current existence was one that would be devoid of alcohol... or coffee. <Maybe this is hell after all...> He thought as he continued to walk his spectral form around the station.

 

[Koda Fett]

BIGFULBITE STATION​

OUTER RIM COALITION SPACE​

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Hardly a friendly face, or a helmet for that matter. Then again, when were Mandalorians greeted with open arms? They had a tendency to cause trouble no matter where they went, and Fett was no exception. Although, the Coalition was fairly tolerable of them if memory served well enough. Skirata held his weight in this territory of space, and the ME was slotting themselves back in the good books or so it seemed. Koda wasn't here for the politics. He was here to get paid for his services on Skor II, receive the latter half of the payment that is. Although, the ORC had their uses as they spacer trash they commonly were. It seemed as if the life of a Bounty Hunter never slows down.

The Mandalorian waded through the station, his T-Visor falling on [member="Jorus Merrill"] for the briefest of moments. Hmph. Jorus appeared at the Meyer Day Race, and there was a chance he knew Meyer to some extent. That Lady of Secrets from the Sith Empire, the one responsible for the downfall of the Galactic Alliance, tasked Fett with the capture of Kurt Meyer. As to why? He had something that she desired, and the Bounty Hunter wasn't clued in for good reason. Fett was ever the opportunist.

"Merrill." Koda called out in the attempt to garner his attention.

 

[Srina Talon]

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---

The Sith Apprentice of [member="Darth Metus"] was exhausted. The attack of the First Order on Skor II had been most unexpected from either member of the Confederacy. The situation had been chaotic, messy, and confusing at best somehow the entire group she’d arrived at the planet with had survived. Srina Talon sat in the pale blue ensemble she had donned for diplomatic discussions earlier in the trip. Outside of her armor, the Scarlet Vow, she scarcely looked like a warrior. She was diminutive and pale amongst the rest of the wreckage. Her lightsaber and the rest of her weaponry were hidden amongst waves of torn shimmersilk.

Silver eyes picked up the form of the Jedi, [member="Coren Starchaser"], but she didn’t make a fuss. He seemed to be looking for someone in particular and she was quite comfortable where she was. She did not see [member="Koda Fett"] or things might have gotten a lot more interesting.

The barely visible scimitar-class stealth ship that the Confederacy had arrived it was a little further back. Mostly undamaged, thankfully, and the only remaining Magnaguard that had survived was stored quietly within. Legs tucked daintily beside her, seated on the ground, leaning against a log in front of a crackling fire pit she seemed like she might take a nap.

Well, she might have, were it not for the skewer of cubed and seared purrgil meat that had been handed to her by an over-enthusiastic Squib. Her head tilted as she examined what appeared to be meat. Srina wasn’t what one might call a picky eater, however, she was entirely uncertain about this. It seemed heavy, a little dirty, and a lot dead. “What…Is this?”, her sweet voice pulled from an almost innocent face as she turned to look up at her Master. He was sitting on the log that she was leaning against.

“It’s not…I don’t know exactly…”

But her stomach was grumbling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten and it was starting to make her feel a touch light headed. The scent of meat cooking on open fires made her mouth water, and more than anything, reminded her of Eshan. All of the people walking around, talking, eating, and socializing seemed surreal.

On one end of the gathering someone [[member="Heron Graile"]] was hocking dead bodies as if they were fresh jogan from a fruit cart. On the other end, people were getting wounds patched up and having drinks. Srina shook her head and took a little bit of the meat from the skewer. She chewed, thoughtfully, before shrugging her shoulders. Whatever purrgil was? Not that bad.

Hearing someone shout about buying First Order corpses made her shake her head. There was a lot of talk about how odd the CIS was. They had more droids than people. Their benevolent dictator Vicelord was a Sith that didn’t seem to want to burn down orphanages every ten seconds. It was undeniably an anomaly…But, clearly, they’d never been here.

The Outer Rim was definitely a strange, strange place.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

There's an afterparty, he'd said, come meet the gang, he'd said, it'll be fun.

Not in those precise words, but the meaning had been the same. As it were, Magda was not want to decline an offer to meet the compatriots of [member="Jorus Merrill"] that had fought alongside him at Skor. Especially not after seeing the damage rendered on his ship. New to the ORC territories, she followed at a pace that was less reluctant than it was overly cautious. This debris field was not exactly prime flying space for the Magesteria.

[member="Isaiah Dashiell"] had spoken well of these people on numerous ocaisions, so she decided to look past the wreckage field and further towards the bright side. If only the bright side weren't littered with dead space whale corpses.

She was exceptionally happy that smell was not something that permeated the seals of spaceships and environmental suits.

Bigfullbite Station seemed to be the center of the party so that's where she went. Not soon enough to find Jorus in the crowds, and if she knew him better she might've headed towards the massive display of whale ribs on an impressively big spit. It was drawing a crowd, so Magda opted to peruse the other areas, rebuffing offers from the vendors as she went.

"Thank you, I'm not hungry."

"It looks delicious...but I already ate."

"Oh, I'm sorry but I'm allergic to...whatever that is."

"I can't. I'm a vegetarian."

Strangely enough, nobody here seemed to understand that word. Magda made a mental note.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Griet van Vliet]

Understandably, thanks to a busy corporate tax season on Akarui, Griet couldn't stay long at Bigfulbite Station. Sure, she wasn't inducted into the Hall of Big-Time Heroes of Beyond-Squib Eliteness, but she couldn't miss out on an occasion to eat purrgil meat, which, to her, was once-in-a-lifetime. She could recognize [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Jorus Merrill"] from Shusugaunt, and also [member="Coren Starchaser"] from a lum run in the Silken Asteroids, [member="Srina Talon"] from Dagobah, and she could smell the tihaar [member="Kaine Australis"] brought in tow as being completely different from the tihaar she typically drank, the Asobi 95% tihaar. Even when Janick called it azeotropic goodness, she still knew that some people used it to either degrease or disinfect hardware, including but not limited to, engines. Attracted by the smell of aged tihaar, she began to ade her way towards the tihaar, while fetching a cup for the booze as well as other utensils for eating the purrgil meat with, oblivious to [member="Magdalena Lethe"], or even [member="Captain Larraq"]. Once she arrived near the source of the tihaar smell, which, to her, was like rubbing alcohol with a flavor...

"Su'cuy gar. In fact, before I start eating this dish of purrgil meat, maybe, as one of those few Jetii to have tasted tihaar, maybe I would like a tablespoon of the tihaar please..."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Happily chewing away in the throngs of joy, a peppy-looking, ponytailed pilot busied herself tasting something she'd never had before. She'd been living on her ship for the past few months, and all her food was starting to remind her of toothpaste. She'd heard of the battle of Skor II -- of course she had! Who hadn't?! The girl had earned her wings with The Rogue Squadron, and regretted not being active to support the efforts of previous months. There'd been a lot going on all over the galaxy, and she and her brother, [member="Isar Kislo"], had been doing what they could to clean up other neglected spots.

With a heavy swallow, azure gaze swept through the crowds once more before reaching her fingers back to her heavily-loaded plate and replacing the swallowed morsel with a fresh bit of barbecued blubber.

There were so many faces here. Lots she didn't recognize, but there were a few that were strikingly familiar to her implanted memories from The Republic's glory days and battles and whatnot.

The girl had affixed herself near the vendor's. The proximity allowed her to continue to refill her plate without having to cross too much distance, and having a full mouth excused her from most conversations.

Nosy as ever, her proximity allowed her to pick up the somewhat mechanical sounding voice that stood out against the aliens and majority of humanoids. Brow furrowed curiously and scanned to discover the owner of such a voice. Why would a droid be offered food?

Ah! It was not a droid.

Leaning against one of the tables like she owned it (much to the actual chef's chagrin), the long-legged pilot pushed off and casually out enough to engage with the obviously non-droid that owned the voice. That sort of figure couldn't be mimicked by mechanics. She really didn't have much of an opening line, except for one that would kill a cat: "Pardon me -- excuse me, sorry... just curious, when you do find something to eat -- how does that work?"

She used her blubber-doused fork to gesture toward [member="Magdalena Lethe"]'s contraption.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

The Mandalorian waded through the station, his T-Visor falling on Jorus Merrill for the briefest of moments. Hmph. Jorus appeared at the Meyer Day Race, and there was a chance he knew Meyer to some extent. That Lady of Secrets from the Sith Empire, the one responsible for the downfall of the Galactic Alliance, tasked Fett with the capture of Kurt Meyer. As to why? He had something that she desired, and the Bounty Hunter wasn't clued in for good reason. Fett was ever the opportunist. "Merrill." Koda called out in the attempt to garner his attention.

Hot dang, that was [member="Koda Fett"]. I'd cheered him on against a couple of Sith in a tournament I should not have risked attending. I turned away, checked my breath in my palm, and grimaced. It'd have to do.

"That's me. Ah..."

I fished in my tool belt and came up with a pamphlet and a grease pencil.

"...can I get your autograph?"

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Well wasn't she a blunt-bantha on some long legs. Magda stared at the woman, mildly abashed by the frankness of the comment and the gestured blubber. Yes, these were definitely Merrill's people. All this gal was missing was a can of lum and an accompanying hic and she'd be perfectly appropriate.

"I am not electively disinclined," she folded her arms defensively, "it's a matter of ... logistical and clinical necessity."

Preliminary.

Right.

"I can only eat food that is prepared in a sterile environment. I have a compromised immune system - any bacteria could make me fataly ill. So I eat on my ship where I can take off my suit and know my meals are safe. Otherwise," she lifted a hand to tap at the circular metal piece at the front of her helmet, "I have a handy little induction port I can drink through."

"With a straw."

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

She wasn't partaking of whale meat. Unlike the others she had spent time with them she had heard the speech as it filled her head. And to sit down and eat their flesh felt more like a betrayal than some kind of honorarium.

She'd be happy with her burger, the bantha didn't speak to her, or moo at her or even try to save her life so she was ok with it.

But the purgills the pod that she had brought in..only a few survived and she felt responsible for their deaths. It was suppose to be peaceful at Skor it was supposed to be a place for them to consider coming back to again and again. Now there were only a few that might. She had brought them.

She should have sent them away when she saw the first order ships. Feth.

She looked at her fellow ORC pals she didn't begrudge them a good time, she just had a different view on what they were doing to celebrate. Someone had said they were making packets up to send to Natasi Fortan as a gift when Rekha heard it she almost vomited into the nearest bucket.

Shaking her head she decided to down the ale she had instead.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

It was true, Loske inherited the worst of [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s bluntness; and she was taking her own tactless spin on it. A compromised immune system sounded painful, and the caution involved with having to make sure everything was stale? Might as well just march into the acidic chamber then and there. Talk about poor quality of life..unless of course, you could afford it.

She did know better than to muse aloud on how expensive the maintenance of sterility must be.

"Yikes, I hope you ate before you got here, otherwise the smell is going to be overwhelming. Your self control must be outstanding.

I'm Loske, by the way." The hand that was beneath the plate was unadulterated by any sort of grease, so she shifted her plate to the messier hand and extended the clean one in [member="Magdalena Lethe"]'s direction.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

"I take my meals when I can," she replied genially enough, "I'll just have to indulge vicariously through others in the meantime." She looked at the hand and was reminded that despite the outward behavior and nature of this group of people, they wouldn't likely be called allies or friends of Jorus if they weren't good people. He didn't seem the type to fraternize willingly or knowingly with the bad sort.

Magda silently chastised herself for the ease of her prickliness and decided to give this another go. She took the proffered hand with her own, "Magdalena. Pleasure. Do you fly with the Coalition?"

 

[Koda Fett]

BIGFULBITE STATION​

OUTER RIM COALITION SPACE​

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Admittedly, that wasn't what the Bounty Hunter had expected.

Maybe a weapon drawn on him, a look of terror, or simply running away. It often came down to those three, not once had he been asked for his autograph. It may have been in that moment Fett realised he hadn't ever written down his name. He never had a need to, and whilst he had seen it in writing it was never anything he had done himself. Strange. It brought on a silent huff of acknowledgement beneath his helmet with each step closer he took towards [member="Jorus Merrill"], closing the distance.

"Tell me everything you know about Kurt Meyer and it'll come under consideration."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske couldn't see [member="Magdalena Lethe"]'s face beneath that visor, so she had to trust this was a genuine exchange. Of course, why would it be anything else? She was one of the most sober people here..

Magdalena... now where had she heard that name before? It was pretty, and unique for certain.

A puff of pink touched the girl's olive skin at the question of who she flew with. She'd been a first lieutenant and then.. a different kind of rogue. She skirted around the question somewhat. "Earned my wings with The Alliance's Rogue Squadron," Loske replied with a casual shrug, glancing down at her plate and feeling a pang of pity for gorging so unapologetically when there were some that could only drool at the sight. OOps.

"I'm not flying with an organization right now, though truth be told, I kind of miss it. I had this contract a while back, and I never really finished the paperwork enough to pursue it full time..." she made an abashed grimace and flexed her shoulders from side to side. "What about you, what occupies most of your time?"

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Koda Fett"]

"Great hair. Decent pilot and tinkerer. Could be a great one when he grows up. I don't know the kid personally. Why? He got a bounty on him?"

I held out the grease pencil and the crumpled flyer for a little quid pro quo.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Magda made a thoughtful noise, head nodding, "I've worked with the Alliance at Kriselist. I think I recall some of the Rogue Squadron being present. That was good company to keep."

Good people all around, Magda had been disheartened to hear of the major galactic government's collapse from the war. It didn't bode well for many things, but the ORC's presence certainly seemed to be acting well enough as a buffer to the wrong sorts. Even if Skor hadn't been won without a good deal of loss and sacrifice.

"Well I..." what did occupy her time now? Listeless traveling. Finding herself. Searching for home. That was stupid.

"I traveled a lot for work. Now I'm ... taking a break and ... traveling ... to ... travel. It's a hard habit to break I suppose. What's stopping you from going back to complete that contract?"

[member="Loske Matson"]