'Rescue' Operation

[The Storyteller]

'Rescue' Operation

A pirate crew have dug in deep on Naos. Establishing an opulent underground bunker, this scum has had the audacity to accumulate a small fortune of valuable émeraude gemstones. We don't have any idea what they're doing with it, but it's clear that this cargo is being held hostage... yep.

So, time to be heroes; break into the bunker, cut down anyone in your path and rescue those caches of émeraudes. It really is the right and upstanding thing to do. This is officially a rescue operation... yep..... get to it.​

Lutta-Toc and his younger brother Joah-Caur were living the high life. While other brutes and braggarts indulged in the vile activities of their underlings, the two Kiughfid brothers were instead men of class and culture, appreciating the finer things that the galaxy had to offer.

While their troops manned the fields and took part in the piracy, the two brothers remained in an underground bunker on Naos, safe and secure in the lap of opulent luxury. Over the months, however, the brothers have truly come into their fortune, having accumulated a massive quantity of precious émeraude gemstones.

Deep beneath the planet's surface, the two Kiuhgfid brothers drank and laughed, relaxing in what was practically their own personal palace, unaware that their coveted haul was to be 'set free' by some noble-hearted marauders...

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

It wasn't a blizzard. Not quite. But without his helmet, Uhtred would have been snow-blinded. Fully armed and armored, Uhtred led a group of Deucalian through a snowstorm. With the temperature regulation, Uhtred couldn't feel the cold. It might have been a world of snow, but this planet was nothing like Ando Prime, and even less so near the scale of Hoth. Aesthetically-speaking, it really was not unlike the other worlds he's known, but it just felt... weaker. Lighter.

He didn't like it. Or rather, he didn't like the one he was after, who had settled it. Uhtred had seen Kiuhgfids before. Short, stocky, four-armed, it was like someone took a Besalisk, cut it down to half its size and gave it some bit of fur. But that wasn't the problem. Fattened, lazy leaders that sat back and left their men orders they would never follow themselves. When battle was on the eve, he who leads should be the first to fire the bolt or raise his axe. That such men would dare call themselves 'leaders' was insulting enough, but that so many followed them was even worse. Such mercenaries and pirates were not worthy of respect... and Uhtred would see to it that they would be given none.

Through the storm, the Deucalian raiders came upon a blastdoor dug into the side of a mountain, and Uhtred raised his arm and pointed forward. Immediately, several warriors set up demolition packs across the door, strategically placing them. In short order, they were set, and after returning to a safe distance, blew the door open with a vibration that shattered the ice across the ground. Panicked chattering in mixtures of Huttese, Bocce and Basic echoed as figured emerged through the smoke. Without a word, Uhtred raised his lockbow and fired three shots, striking the heads of three guardsmen and killing them instantly.

"ᚲᚢᛏ ᛞᛟᚹᚾ ᚨᚾᚤᛟᚾᛖ ᛁᚾ ᚤᛟᚢᚱ ᛈᚨᛏᚺ!"

At once, a series of war cries echoed as the Deucalian raiders charged ahead, storming the opening into the underground bunker. The battle had now begun.

"Are you ready for this?", Uhtred said, grinning as he turned to face Morgan. Perhaps he was wrong, but so far as he knew, this would be his first raid.

@Pontus

 

[M. Arcas]

These raids were interesting business. Morgan had spent most of his adult life doing mercenary work, so they weren't entirely foreign to him, but there was some aspect to these individuals that made the way they went about it wholly unique. Partly a result of them marching bravely towards a fight, even if it meant certain doom, which made them frightening combatants.

"Probably not." - the man said without much hesitation, the hint of a smile coming through his visor despite the grim nature of his words - "But that doesn't mean I won't enjoy it."

Uhtred, the individual that had somewhat taken him in and helped him delve into this strange culture's many idiosyncrasies, had just fired off three shots, each of which had nailed a Kiuhgfid in the head, killing them on impact. Strangely precise, for a man who usually carried an oversized hammer.

Still, this was go-time, and Wardruna had felt it was time to have Morgan dip his toe in the water. Before long, the group reached another juncture. Another set of charges were placed, and before long, another breach was before them. The Corellian marched into the room, covered in smoke that had yet to settle, and rattled off a couple of shots from his carbine, striking one of the aliens dead.

Sadly, there were considerably more in this room than the previous one, and perhaps because he'd gone in too soon, to capitalise on the surprise angle, he hadn't spotted the other seven until it was too late. Arcas rushed to find cover, but he might be in need of some suppressing fire to properly reach without much of a hitch.

@Korvo

Spoiler: Dice

Rolled for more enemies. Got 8.
Rolled for an attack. Minor success.

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Sometimes, the world would almost seem to slow to the point of granting a form of situational omniscience. Some would speak of it giving the sensation of an adrenaline rush. The superstitious would say it was a mark of Daulahtr's presence on the battlefield, and an ill-omen at that.To Uhtred, it just meant he got supremely lucky. Mostly.

As the smoke blanketed the vicinity, Uhtred had prepared to go in low and strike as the fighting grew intense between the Deucalian raiders and the local pirates in the bunker. To his surprise, however, it had seemed Morgan had the heart of a wolf after all, charging in with the vanguard. In Uhtrd's opinion, this was what mattered most; whether or not a warrior could charge into battle, or hesitate and be left behind.

Of course, right after that was known when-and how-to go about the charge. Mounting his lockbow onto his back, Uhtred instantly charged ahead to catch up with Morgan. He had made a successful kill, and that much was good. What was less-so, was the fact that seven other pirates had suddenly put a bead on him. Sacrificing the option to attack a vulnerable hostile, Uhtred charged forward and tackled Morgan, knocking him to the ground and behind cover in order to place him out of harm's way. And the gamble was successful, save for a glancing blow that struck Uhtred at the side of his abdomen.

Groaning in pain, Uhtred gasped sharply as he worked through the pain. They were behind cover, but their situation was no less dangerous, even now.

"This is a raid, brother", Uhtred said, leaning against the cover as he grinned toward Morgan. "Not a blitz."

With the initial pain subsiding, Uhtred dismounted his lockbow and readied it for combat. Words were being drowned out now by the shouting and blasterfire that was lighting up the place, and so Uhtred wouldn't exchange any words. Instead, he simply nodded to Morgan; a 'ready when you are' affirmation. If this was going to work, they would need to attack together.

@Pontus

 

[M. Arcas]

"I'm going to level with you, here... I thought there'd be less of the furry little bastards." - Morgan replied just as his breath had returned to him. Uhtred's tackle had knocked the wind out of him, but judging by how the Deucalian now had a wound to his abdomen, it was clear he'd gotten the sweeter end of the bargain.

As the noise came in from around them, the Merc wasn't entirely sure his words had been heard, but if he hadn't made some flippant remark, he wouldn't be who he was. With a breath, to steel himself, the man grasped his carbine and nodded to Uhtred, rising to his feet to take a shot. Sadly, the instant he did, before he could aim, one of the aliens hit him. A glancing blow from a blaster, that missed his arm but clipped him just beneath his ribs. It seemed like a shallow flesh wound, but it did sting like crazy. In an instant, the man's back found cover again, having accomplished nothing at all.

"ᛁ ᚴᚾᛖᚹ ᛁ ᛋᚺᛟᚢᛚᛞ'ᚡᛖ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᛞᚱᚢᚾᚴ ᚠᛟᚱ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ." - Morgan grunted in relatively broken Deucalic. This language was not coming easily to him. That said, the correct syntax and pronunciation that largely surpassed normal standards probably implied the man had been practicing this one particular line, which was... Interesting?

@Korvo

Spoiler: Dice

Rolled to attack. Minor failure.

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

GAHAHAHA!", Uhtred laughed, leaning his head against the cover behind him.

Morgan's Deucalic had come a long way, but he already knew to prioritize some words and expressions above the others.

"See, now you're getting it. ᛖᚡᛖᚱᚤᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ ᛁᛋ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚤᛋ ᛒᛖᛏᛏᛖᚱ ᚹᚺᛖᚾ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚨᚱᛖ ᛞᚱᚢᚾᚴ", Uhtred remarked as he rearmed his lockbow.

Seven bastards in particular were firing at the Uhtred and Morgan. Uhtred briefly shut his eyes as he focused his memory from mere moments ago, desperately recalling what details he could from then. Storage crates and old industrial equipment, no doubt remnants of what was used to create or facilitate the underground bunker. And then...

The Deucalian Battle-Master opened his eyes, which would have appeared to simply have been a strenuous blink. Air escaped from his mouth in exhalation, but also with the sound of a subdued laugh. Glancing upwards, Uhtred paid attention to the intensity and frequency of the blasterfire overhead, combined with the more muffled impacts of blaster shots hitting the cover he was behind. Eventually, the blasterfire lulled, no doubt the guards reloading their weapons, and Uhtred made his move.

With eyes down the scope of his lockbow, Uhtred immediately took aim, not on any man or woman clad in armor with blasters in hand, but on a crate of canisters, exposed with the side panel down. They were likely unloading them when the Deucalians attacked. This was an underground bunker, and worse, it operated on a frozen world. Of course their power requirements would demand regular shipments of processed fuel. The cargo's name, industrially stenciled onto the crate was partially cut off, but enough was there to have allowed Uhtred to determine what it was; beryllium.

Firing a shot past the group of hostiles, Uhtred's attack hit square onto the canisters of beryllium. The Battle-Master immediately took cover again as that corner of the room erupted into a pure-white chemical fire, engulfing three hostiles outright. Uhtred had seen beryllium burns before; it would be a quick and-death, and no doubt would sew some degree of trepidation among the other hostiles now.

"I think I counted about four more arselings trying to kill us", Uhtred said, prepping himself to break cover again. "You take right, I take left?"

@Pontus

 

[M. Arcas]

Still winging a little, Morgan flashed Uhtred his pearly whites, having only understood about half of the man had told him and no real clue about the rest. He got the 'drunk' bit. That aspect of Deucalic he was approaching significant proficiency on. The word seemed to flow from his tongue with perfect diction, no matter which language it was uttered in, and he seemed to have a sixth sense for it, even when he was out of his element.

Still, for all he knew Uhtred had insulted him to his face. To Morgan, the word drunk was only a good thing about 75% of the time, though that did tend to shoot upwards to the mid 80th-percentile when it came to the Deucalians. Still, even if it had been something bad, what else could he do, but show his winning smile and keep doing his thing? Then again, this was Uhtred. Knowing that bastard, he'd probably told him he was drunk himself, which did not bode well either... frankly, it was a little more worrisome, as images of this proud warrior bent over now several items on several separate occasions, often with particularly bloodied fingers from knife-play, barfing his guts out. Uhtred had seen his fair share of his drunken escapades as well, but that wasn't in question here. Moving on!

Morgan nodded to his brother's request, and once again stepped out of cover to fire. He was blinded by the brightness of the flame. But, before it consumed his vision, the merc did manage to fire a shot off, which painted the burning walls with fur and brain matter.

Before any kind of celebration could rush through him though, in but a split second he felt a singing pain in his side... again. Immediately, the Corellian snapped back to cover and examined his wound. The place that he'd been shot in previously was now dug in a little further...

They'd shot him in the same place twice! In the same place?! Who in the nine hells was this furred freak? Ironically, the fact that a scorch mark had already punched a divot through that location meant that this wound was shallower, but still.

"You know." - he said, turning to Uhtred - "Normally, I'm a pretty peace-loving guy." - a lie, told with so much conviction and spectacular acting one might almost think he believed it - "But I'm really starting to hate these people... I mean, what did we ever do to them?"

@Korvo

Spoiler: Dice

Rolled to attack. Minor success.