Tongues of Fire

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This was all a test.

Delam had been hesitant to accept warriors that did not hail from Zenith Prime. He had come to understand that most men and women from other worlds were lax, and while they might have had military experience, they lacked the spirit, the zeal. There were few combatants in the galaxy that could match the strength of his warriors. Even fewer were not sorcerers - those who called upon the force to augment themselves in battle. The High Lord accepted their necessity, and did indeed keep a number of them in his retinue, but their approach to battle was...distasteful.

And so it was that he'd been forced to expand his recruitment parameters. Zenith Prime churned out new soldiers every day, and they found themselves fitting positions within the Imperial Fists, but warriors of the legion were scarce. There were a scant few people suitable to wear the power armor his men had become known for.

Tusken Raiders were an unknown for Delam. He had heard of their savage reputation: of their strength in battle, their cunning, their resilience - a race well suited to his cause. The problem being that they were xenophobic and were too entrenched within their culture to sign on.

There were, however, a number of humans raised by them. He'd put out a call for these people and offered them a place within the legion. All they needed to do was prove themselves.

Six had responded. One had been sent away for his lack of discipline. The other five remained, given the DC-17m blaster systems the Imperial Fists carried into battle and told to fall in. There was a target of relative importance in this backwater town. A man renowned for his piloting capabilities - a man that might help to reform the Imperium's starfighter corps if all went well.

This man could not be allowed to die.

The town was run by a swoop gang. Violent and crude fellows that kept the populace under control via protection taxes. With them were the bounty hunter. Bounty hunters that were likely out to find this pilot.

The former Tuskens had their task. They would follow Delam into battle, eliminate the swoop gang entirely, and secure the pilot. That was the plan anyway.

Clad in power armor and wielding his mass-accelerated rifle along with his power hammer, Delam stood at the edge of the town. His gaze fell over those who had sworn themselves to the legion and came to rest on the one that had been put in charge of the other whelps, @Torín.

"Are the others prepared, Torin?"

 

[Torín]

Torin never cared for outsiders, he found them to be pains and at most times they were soft and annoying. Several of the tribes gathered for a meeting when this "high lord" strolled into the deeper parts of their territory. His offers were met well with the chieftains because each clan had agreed to allow their warriors to leave and join the offworlder. Although he had to admit, the high lord had proven himself to be more than a soft and weak offworlder.

Upon hearing his name Torin turned towards the High Lord and nodded. "We are prepared to do what is asked of us, high lord, but make no mistake. We are warriors of the honored tribes of the desert, we do not stand soldiers to your cause. Not yet." Torin walked past each of the warriors, knocking the blasters out of their hands. "These weapons may be powerful, but we hold nothing in the ways of their use." Torin looked to each of the warriors before letting out an inhuman wale. Each of the warriors responded by kicking the weapons away from their feet. Torin turned back to face [member="Delam Mairev"] with a slight glare on his face. His loyalty never to be mistaken for weakness he spoke once more. "When the time comes when our way will not work, we will use your skills, but here in the great desert, we are hunters who will hunt as we see fit."

Torin screeched once more, each of the Tuskens nodded to the former war-captain before walking back to the line of bantha's behind them. Each of the men returned with Cycler rifles, the standard hunting tool for the tribesmen. The rifles had the range to rival a sniper rifle and were simple enough for any warrior to handle.

After retrieving his own rifle Torin turned back to the high lord and spoke once more. "We may not have been birthed from the desert as true Tusken Raiders high lord....but we were raised by it and know how she works."

 

[Adelram Thul]

This is what happens when I stick my head out the gutter for a minute.

The cantina had been shot to hell by a swoop gang and some bounty hunters on the tail of Adelram. Smashed windows, broken bottles, over turned tables, and dead bodies littered the inside of this local watering hole. Pinned down behind the bar at the end of the cantina, the exiled noble had been boxed in by the local bottom feeders in an attempt to cash in on his bounty. They had picked up his trail since he returned to Alderaan, a crisis of his noble house brought him home. The affair was a disaster for him. Not only had his house fallen, but he was forced to go back into exile. Yet somehow someone who knew his true identity managed lure him into a trap. Adelram didn't want to come to this backwater town. Yet a bogus deal had been setup by some hunters, luring Adelram in with parts he desperately need to upgrade his personal starship. The ambush failed when the ammeter swoop gang drew their guns a little too early.

"This the best you got for me scum!" Popping out from behind cover, Adelram fired his DXR6 carbine several times, catching some two-bit swoop gang member in the face. With the satisfying sound of a crack and splat of the skull, the man toppled over onto the floor. "How many guys is that now? Six!" Adelram taunted. He ducked down under the bar just in time to miss a volley of blaster bolts. Shattered glass and alcohol spilled onto the floor behind the bar as bottles burst from the incoming line of fire.

"Your only making this hard on yourself. Your a dead man, Char." One of the gang members shouted, using Adelram's real name. "I plan to collect that one hundred thousand credits, no matter what! You hear me?" Again, taking advantage of the gangbangers little declaration of getting his reward, the noble popped up from behind cover to fire another burst of blaster fire from his carbine. One of the swoopers was caught in the chest, and tumbled to the ground, his breathing ragged. "Thats Seven!" Adelram shouted. He hoped to demoralize the gang and hunters into a retreat, cut off from his starfighter The Red Comet, he was going nowhere for the moment.

[member="Delam Mairev"]