Log:First Order: FO Youth Recruiting Day on Mandalore
MANDALORE. BRIDORI EXPANSE. SECTOR 27.
Night time has come and darkened the lands where the Vanguard and the Knights of Ren have landed in a merchants shuttle. A cool howling wind whips through the area, kicking up sand and errant brush on the toes of an incoming storm which has been taken advantage of by the group, providing increasing cover as the storm barrels it's way in.
There is a single moon that has been shrouded by the darkening storm clouds, the base of operations for War King Shraltan Dominovi cloaked in darkness and a haze of sand. It's a one story domed compound that is dug into the baserock, two entrances present, one for ships and one for ground vehicles and those on foot. The doors are locked and guarded by Mandalorians within, a keypad at the ground door and the flight door controls held within.
The mission? To obtain and conscript the fifteen or so children held within the tribes compound to bring them to the Glory of the First Order and into the future ranks of Stormtroopers.
The adults have no such future in store.
Commander Herald Starbucks is leading the mission today, a swarthy man with a goofy countenance, a man of the navy. A man who enjoys delegating where he can. The team has landed a hundred or so yards away, taking advantage of the electrical mess being stirred up by the storm which is now encroaching over the compound and beginning to mess with scanning systems, including those of the team.
The ship, which is a cargo ship that has been requistioned for this mission, opens the back cargo door to reveal hissing sands and slapping winds, "All everyone, but most importantly Supreme Leader and his side dude, Knight -of- Ren, let's get in, let's recruit us some bad ass little kids!!" Starbucks will rush forwards to kick off down the ramp, the wind not yet snappy enough to force one to steady their footing unless you're real, real tiny. Then yer on yer own.
Forwards he goes, "Who was the one who was good with slicin' and dicin' doors? Go, go, go!" Said/yelled with a wave of his right arm towards the big metal double doors.
<<Form up and weapons check.>> Artemis grunts over the comms as she pulls out her new toy: the SoroSuub rifle variant with its targetting assist built in. Perhaps she's smiling behind the plastoid helmet, but probably not. She strides out in to the howling wind without a moment's hesitation firmly confidant in her armor's ability to absorb the brunt of whatever is being held aloft in the air.
<<We will need to prevent airborn evacuation through the larger of the two doors. I do not believe we currently have the ordinance to take down ships.>> Artemis explains her line of thought as the weapon cradled in her hands whirs to life. <<Or we hit fast enough to hope that they do not have the opportunity to rally and fight back.>>
Drath has, in this particular mission, been able to show off a lesser known talent of his: Demolition work. Not that he's great with the grenade kind, it's more the setting them up and blowing things up kind that he's been trained in. Thus, he has a few rows of what appears to be Detonite slung over one shoulder and secured with a band, as he strolls out of the ship, his rifle held at ease but ready to be raised at any moment. <<This storm is likely disrupting their scanners as much as it is ours. I can get the doors blown open if we'd like to make a rapid ingress onto the premesis.>> he chirps over the comms, the Trooper stepping out to gaze across at the compound nearby.
<<"Copy">> Hadrix is out, into the wind and storm, the pilot of his flamer engaging as he takes up escort position, keeping watch over Drath as his squaddie moves up with the demo pack. <<"Tank at optimal, pilot lit. System ready">>. Watching over the surroundings, Hadrix, adds over comms <<"Ten-Fifteen, suggest two point stack on left, long range angle from right. Chuck and charge if neccessary.">> He checks his ammo packs, making sure his grenades are where he needs them.
Wind whips Oran's dark clothing with the sandpaper sting of sand as he exits the ship, which looks suitably dramatic against the backdrop of tortured electrical storms and the endless, ruined wastelands of the Mandalorian wild. It probably isn't the most comfortable or practical thing, but a villain's got to do what a villain's got to do. Listening as usual on comms and speaking back into them for the Vanguard to hear, he comments, "Correct, we lack ordinance to take down ships, act quickly enough that we won't have to. Make a rapid ingress, use demolitions to clear the door. Do not injure the youth. Do not spare the adults."
Mandalorians are capable warriors, and that's why they've been selected for the latest crop of elite stormtrooper 'recruits'. It's also why Kylo Ren himself has made time to accompany the Vanguard on this mission. He's masked and robed, and as he steps down from the merchant shuttle, his processed voice warns the others, "Mandalorians are not to be trifled with. They have fought the Jedi, the Sith, and each other for thousands of years. Do not hesitate, and do not underestimate them."
Within the compounds main area there is a huge bon fire burning, having been built in anticipation of the electricty going out with the incoming storm. There are children running around, laughing, screaming, round the fire, dinner time coming up fast, sticks of desert meat wound around and stabbed into the sand in wait.
The children range in ages from 3 to 14 years of age, with the older children helping to mind the younger ones, when the call goes out, "All right, you little tyrants, dig in to yer meals. Go on, you burn your lil' booties no one ain't kissing your 'booboos' for you, now go on." That voice belongs to the matronly Requibba Grainly, a dark eyed winsome sort of woman bearing decades of scars and a cascade of silver hair that is braided down along her back to hit above her armored backside.
Her helmet is off, attached to a hook on her belt, gap-toothed smile bright as she watches her charges quite literally charge for the meatsticks to get to roasting. Stormy nights are camp out in the open area night, which means language lessons and terrifying stories of Jedai and underwear. Hands press to the stocky woman's hips, other adults wandering in from the inner compound walls to get ready to teach the children as they all feast. A few yards away from the fire sleeping rolls and pads are sorted along with blankets and sleeping bags. Crouched by the stone ring surrounding the fire some children help others, while others begin sword fighting with their sticks and meat, "OI!" Requibba calls out, "Jus' remember, you lose that fight you gotta give up yer meat, so fight hard!" Not your typical upbringing.
Scanners that normally would have alerted the group to invaders, or even poor lost souls, but the electricity produced by the sands and the storm combined means they are blissfully unawares.
"From our intel--" Starbucks says over the comms as he stays with the ship, weapon at the ready as he crouches down at the bottom of the ramp, "We've got maybe an hour before those out on a hunt return, about thirty strong, so smash and grab, kiddos."
<<All right.>> Artemis agrees with the trooper with the bionic ear and the other who was assisted in attempting a spacewalk without a suit, quickly shuffling a plan about in her head as she marches towards their target. Lingering near the back, she allows her rifle to dangle off of her shoulder by its strap as she draws out a rough sketch that would be transmitted to the HUDs of her squadmates.
<<We will be the spear as Nine-Oh suggests. Push the door in and press forward, funneling any resistance towards the smaller door on the opposite side while I provide ranged support.>> The larger door is highlighted and points are designated for Hadrix, Drath, and herself with the two boys taking up the front and her some ways back where the optimal range for her rifle is best suited. <<If you would please, sirs, we will rely on you to sift through the chaffe if those within choose to try and make an escape on foot through the opposite door.>>
Rounding the compound on the outskirts, Artemis chooses whatever elevated spot she can find and falls prone with one leg stiff-straight and the other slightly angled. Her rifle rests on its bipod, its lethal end directed towards the still-intact door in preparation for its eventual destruction. With a flick, the weapon silently comes to life drinking in telemetry in anticipation of the first shot. <<If there are no objections, prep and go. Ninety-One, bring the thunder.>>
<<Yes, Sir!>> Drath responds to Kylo easily enough, turning and starting off across the space between them and the main door at a decent enough pace. He's always preferred rapid ingress over other styles of combat, hence having trained in demo. <<Roger that, Ten-Fifteen. Shouldn't take long.>> That said, he approaches the door, his rifle being pushed back on its cord as he carefully removes the Detonite from around his chest.
Setting up the six pieces in a shape intended to force the door open at its sides, and ensuring the explosives are angled correctly, Drath brings out a wireless detonator and keys it to the demolition's frequency. That done, he stands, slinging his rifle back around and making a motion with two fingers towards the left side of the door, as the Trooper moves into position against the wall of the compound, ensuring he won't be hit by shrapnel. Waiting for everyone to get into position, he holds up the detonator next to him, and depresses the activator with his thumb to get the party started.
Stacking up with Drath, Hadrix gets in position to roll in first, since he has the shortest range weapon. He is positioned to keep incidental shrapnel from hitting his helmet, and when the explosion sounds he tucks, to minimize his chances of being hit. Then, assuming all goes well he dips and takes a peek, trying to get an idea of numbers visible, tagging any he can see to transmit to the other trooper's HUDs
Oran stands clear of the likely explosion zone, though he seems to be leaning more on danger sense than on a tactical tuck like Hadrix. No complaints are voiced about the plan so far, just a watchful sort of wariness, and he replies to Artemis. "I suspect they will fight before they run, but you may rely on us nonetheless. Proceed."
"They won't run." Kylo doesn't seem to have any doubts about that, the man in black standing there more or less in no cover at all, apparently as little regard for the explosion's danger as the risk of fleeing Mandalorians. The cavernous black hole around his eyes looks on with scant patience as he waits for ingress to begin, turning his mask for a moment towards the wider wasteland where the aforementioned reinforcing force is meant to arrive from, at some point in the future. "We'll need to move in, and quickly."
BOOM. FWOOOSH. With the sudden explosion cool and sandy air rushes into the compound to whip up around the fire which causes a sort of fire/dust devil to twirl up like an angry god being awakened. There is a moment of excitement from the children who will gasp, ooh and aww, though the youngest of them will start to scream shrilly and toddle over to the older children, chubby arms raised as bootied feet clog through the sand. While for most this would cause extreme disorientation, the adult Mandalorians out in the courtyard are battle honed warriors and immediately draw weapons as they begin to barrel towards the blown out door. Requibba draws out her own rifle and drops down to one knee, focusing on the bright light that breaks through the flames of the blown doors, "Clan Tal Young Rancors, get the wee ones into the inner safe room, GO, GO -- no you can't bloody well stand and fight with us, you bloody amazing little runt Chequi-" Said as a 13 year old girl calls out that she's joining the fight, raising her stick of meat up, the meat still rare, ready and raring to go, "YOUR job is to protect the ones still learning. GO. GO."
The fact that the FO is there, or that the Supreme Leader himself is there with the famed Vanguard and a Knight of Ren isn't known just yet. No. They're fighting off a warring faction in their minds right now, two others joining Requibba as she takes a shot, not waiting to parlay, "Eat my arsehole bloody Krath Clan."
Smaller children are plucked up by older children who run at the bellowed words of Requibba to the safe area designated, "FOCUS ON THAT LIGHT-" She calls out a moment after she presses the trigger on her gun, other Mandalorians still left in the compound no doubt being warned by the children on their way.
Plus. You know. The explosion helped ruin the element of surprise that could have been garnered by slicing the computer.
With her helmet digitally suppressing the flash, Artemis only has to squint a little to bear the brunt of the explosive burst as she peers down the length of her lethal weapon's sight. The view is mired in a cacophany of data. Where once she had only trained instinct to rely on, processing technology inches her abilities a measure forward providing certainty when her gut teeters on the edge of indecision. Unfortunately, the targetting computer is also acting as a lighthouse, calling shots at her from beyond the brume.
"Bith spit," Artemis mutters as she ducks her head in to the dirt. Blaster bolts strike the dirt around her sending plumes of grit in to the air. Focusing on her squadmates, she lines up and sucks in a breath before taking a pot shot through the fog at Hadrix's assailant. She finds little but the floor of the compound. <<One.>> Artemis hisses loud enough for it to slide over the comms.
It may be intimidating, when the black-armored troopers begin to emerge into view from the ruins of the door that once stood between the Mandalorians and the outside world here. With Hadrix in the lead wielding his flamer, and Drath bringing up the space right behind the man with his F-11D Blaster Rifle raised, the assault begins in a cloud of fire and dust. As Hadrix takes a hit, and a sniper round soars over their shoulders, Drath calls out <<Focus fire!>> and proceeds to open fire on Derlanyee, his shot going a bit wide as the group advances.
Mandalorians... Head shots. He should have suspected. As Hadrix rolls in and starts his advance, his head rocks back, plastoid shell and energy-damper mesh doing what it can, there are still burns, some of the plastoid shell and the liner dripping through a hole and sizzling where it heat-bonds to his skin. He stumble steps, forced to slide to the side as he works to keep himself upright, smashing his shoulder into... well whatever it is, or was, to bounce himself back into a path for the one who shot him.
<<"Count later - lead, follow my HUD paint!">> He's hit, in the face, and he's getting a chance to fight. His flamer is up, and suddenly the dust and storm are illuminated with the rage of the elements, liquid fire erupting to engulf his assailant, but with the wind and the dust, and the doubled vision it's very hard to tell if he's successful. <<"Carking shot me in the face...">> he stumbles again, veering to the right this time.
Oran sweeps through the smoke and flickering bits of flame left by the Vanguard, heedless of the shots flying their way, and for now, he seems also to be relatively unperturbed by Hadrix's new injury, either. "You will be restored, you will be repaired," he promises. "Exact vengeance." One gloved hand reaches out like he's grabbing something, found the object not to his liking, and cast it away -- which is what he's done, only the 'object' is Derlanyee, and she's taking a rough trip into the courtyard wall.
Through the fog of war at the gate, a familiar and hated image appears to the Mandalorians as a ragged crimson blade growls into life, joined shortly after by a shorter pair splitting off the sides. The dust and smoke is almost too thick to see the black-clad figure wielding it, a disembodied blade floating through the entrance whose bearer materializes from the shroud on the other side, staring at his enemies from behind the dead eyes of his mask while the blaster bolts zip back and forth and Hadrix's flamer fills the compound with light and the heavy scent of accelerant.
Artemis grimaces as her inner monologue is brought to light by Hadrix's quip. With gritted teeth and scrambling to her feet, she hefts the rifle to her shoulder and scrambles forward several meters before lunging on to one knee with a heavy crunch. The twin prods of her bipod sit astride the composite plate on her elevated leg, stabilizing the length of the thick, ion-sheathed barrel.
As the smoke clears, Artemis' target is nearly trivial to sight. With a squeeze of the trigger, her weapon screams with the pull of the void, paving the path to the next world for one of the Mandalorian's with her own molten flesh.
Drath continues the advance, reaching out to slap Hadrix on the back of his plastoid armor in the direction of the enemy, so as to ensure he stays on target. <<Target down, change target!>> he calls out over the comms as Artemis' short hits Derlanyee in the background. Raising his rifle, he opens fire on Dusty, sending the man down with a single, well-placed shot to the head. <<Second target down! One remaining!>> It's like counting, as the Mandalorians, despite their prowess, fall rather quickly to the might of the First Order.
<<"Copy, Nintety One">> the slap clears Hadrix's head... mostly by the shock lancing pain through it. He does as Oran had said, and presses the firing stud once more, pointing at the one squawking about jettis or whatever you call those spurs of land going out into open water. Wierd. The flamer belches and then sprays liquified fire onto the woman, plasma as opposed to conventional fire. He doesn't say anything more for now, focusing his rage as he hoses the woman down.
Teamwork. Finesse. Oran continues to walk through the clearing smoke as the Vanguard fires deadly shots into their opponents, fire which in Hadrix's case is literally fire. As though inspired by the face-melted trooper, he picks up where Hadrix left off, and continues the theme afoot. Telekinetic forces lift Requibba by the throat and slowly drag her towards the bonfire, closer and closer, until eventually her flames join the larger fire's, and become lost within it. "This is a good death," the Knight promises her, kindly, as he holds the body down, pinned, helpless, hopeless, until it stops moving. Then his hand drops, and his attention returns to the Vanguard. "Get the children out of the safe house."
Kylo Ren is not much for teamwork or finesse. He stands in the middle of the courtyard watching the conflict unfold and escalate, holding an unstable red blade in one hand, the mask hiding his expression but from the slant of his posture the man seems almost confused or relaxed, and after the harsh words about what formidable warriors they would be facing tonight, maybe he's just disappointed at how rapidly the Vanguard has taken apart the first line of defenses. "Perhaps this was not the correct compound," he muses to himself in a thoroughly garbled voice.
Requibba focuses on trying to take down the man with the Red Saber, not quite realizing yet that it is the one and only Kylo Ren. That doesn't matter to her. These were the elite of the First Order, the famed Knights of Ren she had only heard about and not yet dreamt wild dreams of encountering. Artemis's shot is devastating to the already battered body of the female Mandalorian Dery, the last shot leaving a set of shoulders with a rib cage exposed, her head completed shorn from her body, bits of matter left within the cracked t-visored helm that richocheted off the wall into the sand dully.
Drath's shot is as equally horrific to Dusty, the shot taking him in under the chin as the male had tilted his head back and to the side to check on Dery who had suddenly gone quiet, the last thought of the man a note of that at least she died a worth death, only to be funneled into his own.
Fire suddenly erupts up around Requibba as she calls out, "Dusty, Der--" Only to realize as the flames lick their way up her armor that her compatriots are dead, gritting her teeth as she burns alive, still on one knee, rifle repositioned to take aim at Drath, "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'l---" Air is closed off before she can finish her words to her fellow Mandalorians, the woman watching in enraged horror as the bonfire looms. There are no screams from the woman who keeps dark eyes trained on Oran, whether by his hand or due to sheer will, until she is taken.
"Okay, if the court yard is clear, move into the compound." Says Starbucks who is outside, monitoring the perimeter, having climbed up the cargo ship to crouch atop it, keeping vigil, "Should be like ..a door, probably with a panel." The commander says from behind the scope of his rifle as the winds pick up around him, blowing sand and debris into the compound and allowing the elements to fully enter within. Lightning snaps and thunder bellows within the sand and electrical storm.
The door is a simple large metal door, durasteel, with a panel beside it.
Rising to her feet, Artemis clips one rifle on to the weapon rack on her back to favor another better suited for sweeping the compound with the opportunity for longer shots muted by closed quarters and encroaching walls.
<<Good work.>> Artemis offers the compliment matter-of-factly as she hustles to catch up with the group. Even as she arrives, she's already pointing deeper in the compound with a slice of her guantleted hand. <<You heard the Knight, the job is not over. Basic column formation. Keep an eye out for traps and remember permanent injuries on youth are not permitted.>>
When the mottled metal of the durasteel door looms in front of them, Artemis eyes the panel briefly. There's a flicker of recognition there, a thought from training long drifting in to the obscurity of early youth along with the torturous exercises imparted on her to abolish ego and replace it with a stubborn endurance that drives her today. The trooper is unable to call it forth from the depths and instead defers to Drath's skill with shaped sharges.
<<You're up again, Ninety-One.>> Artemis intones flatly.
Drath is somewhat desensitized to the carnage and death beholden around him, the fire and flames reflecting from his visor in the darkness as he turns his head once the last Mandalorian is an assured kill, scanning the courtyard for anymore hostiles before announcing <<Clear>> is announced, as his orders are reiterated. At the reminder, he chants a <<Yes, Sir!>> over his comms, and turns to rush behind Artemis as the Vanguard continues its rapid assault on the compound.
Slinging his weapon back to free up his hands, Drath approaches the door. Reaching into a compartment on his belt, Drath removes two fragmentation grenades, activating the magnetic functions of the devices as he keys them into his detomator. Slapping one on either side of the door, he stacks to the side of it, waiting for the tohers to get into position before hitting the detonator and knocking the door clear off its hinges so that it falls within the compound.
Hadrix slings his flamer and steps up towards the door when Artemis motions. Drawing a sword of all things, he sweeps it a few times while he is in a clearer area. <<"Switching to close combat, on point">> It's a one handed unit, not the typical monolithic weapon one normally sees him toting.
Stacking on Drath, he notes <<"On my seven, Ninety-One, if I see op-for I will advance hard.">> he raises the blade in high guard posture and once more rolling in when the door goes. He stops, mid-way into a foyer, blade held so that it crosses over his shoulder line, head canting to one side before he lifts his free hand, throwing out a series of quick signals before pointing down a flight of stairs '3-Op-For, and acquisition targets'. <<"Advancing">> is all he says over comms before he starts down the stairs, angling to be able to thrust the sword point at full strength if he finds anyone in his way.
Oran folds his arms and waits for Drath to explode the door open, face shadowed by the cowl of the hooded robes. Absent immediate combat to be distraction... the weather still sucks, and this is terrible. His brows lift a little at the sight of Hadrix's sword, but no comment there at the moment. "Follow him," the Knight instructs the other expendables.. er, Vanguard, and then will move to walk after them once they do.
Why look when you can just trawl through the entire compound and kill everyone that you come into contact with? It's darker in here, and the mask has no enhancements for Kylo's eyes. The lightsaber remains ignited at his side as he moves to follow after Hadrix, mentally tuning out some of the back-and-forth tactical instructions the Vanguard give each other, long since used to ignoring the chatter of Stormtroopers.
"It's ..it's too heavy, Chequi." Frath opines to the girl below him as he tries his best to try and pry open with another child a heavy escape hatch built into the base to try and get the kids out. They've been working on trying to get it open the entire time, and little Frath is the runt, though the eldest of the group, small and a cheeky ginger. He's ADORABLE and looks younger than he is.
"Come on, they're /coming/, and you /heard/ them, they're the /dark cheese/-" "No, Chequi, it's ~dar-jay-tee~, not dark-chee-eeze, I know you been at our classes." So says a light browned, deeply freckled know it all Beckie in an all knowing way, rolling her eyes.
When the explosion sounds the smaller children begin to cry, older children quickly moving to slide the kids into the open crates in the cellar where food stuffs and weapons and the like are stored.
"Shhh, shhh. Okay, shhh, we're gonna save you guys. Okay? Shhhh." That's Arty murmuring over the edge of one crate to the toddlers within and slightly younger children than she, Smadrix already wielding a weapon, a nice trident, in a haphazard way as it nearly weights more than him, "I'M GOING TO KILL THEM ALL WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS." Said as he advances on the staircase, greeting the Knight of Ren, the Supreme Leader, and the Troopers.
A thrill of fear runs through the young dark haired boy as he looks defiantly up, brandishing in more of a hug his weapon, the other four eldest children of the group also moving in to formations taught by them, clubs, a meat stick from earlier, and one blaster among their chosen weapons, "Eeeb-toor jaht-nay toor ash ahd ...ken ..no, KEE ..RAM..kee ram oor!" Yells Smadrix in a sort of chuffed and confident way, the other four joining in from KYR'AMUR with their adorable little kid voices. Arty accidently fires off her weapon in her terror/excitement, the bolt shooting off to the right of the invaders heads, her eyes going wide as she shrinks back, trying to find her bravery to remain with the group, "kee ..ram ..oor .." she says lastly, pale and terrified.
<<Copy.>> Artemis grumbles at Hadrix over the comms, following after her rifle's barrel as it quests along the horizon line for a target like a hungry asp scenting the air. Oran's superfluous instruction is ignored: they are already marching after the obstinate trooper as they always have.
When the children appear, Artemis watches the drama of bravery for a miserable second, her lips pressing in to a thin line behind the anonymizing shell of her plastoid composite helmet. Then, abruptly, she rolls it off in to one hand with her rifle still held aloft in the other.
There may be a shred of maternal instinct lingering within the trooper, ill-nourished and scrappy, laden with chains and foaming at the mouth for whatever scraps it can manage to scavenge. It is this specter within herself that Artemis summons as she berates the children for their foolish bravado.
"Enough, you foolish sprogs!" Artemis bellows with a snarl. "Know when you are defeated."
Following behind Hadrix down the halls of the compound, Drath keeps his weapon up and trained on the man's 7 o'clock, the squad's feet carrying them in formation down the darkened halls. The Vanguard doesn't /always/ do its job quite this effectively, but today they seem to be on their game as they make their way. Drath will look back fondly on this mission, mostly because he got to blow things up for once.
As they round the corner to find the children in the middle of their escape attempt, Drath raises his weapon, the darkness of the compound giving way to the masked figures of the three black-clad Stormtroopers like demons come to reap souls. Drath fans out to the side of Hadrix, flanking the injured Trooper with his weapon aimed at the children before him. <<Drop your weapons. Now!>> he speaks over the extrenal speakers of his armor, reinforcing Artemis' own instructions with the modulated voice.
Staring down at the kid, Hadrix's scowl is lost within his helmet. "I would listen to them..." his externals click on. He -technically- hasn't killed anyone today, and has been shot in the face again... the growl injected into his voice by the vocalizer little more than a generally intelligable, gutteral, growl... The big trooper keeps his blade pointed. He remains tensed, ready to thrust and make an example if he's given the order. Murder stab.
Oran sighs, exhaling exasperation into the world that far exceeds the volume of the breath itself. He's of similar mind to Artemis, here. A gesture, and Smadrix's trident plucks free of his grasp to fly into Oran's, where his gloved hand accepts the janky weapon with a firm snap. "We don't have time for this," possibly the first Coruscanti voice they've ever heard announces. "You're coming with us. You will fight. You will burn against enemies far greater than these pitiful tribes. You will come with us and fight, or you will die cowards here in the dark."
"Put your weapons down," Kylo's heavily processed voice instructs harshly to the children. It's a theme in the First Order, really, the whole helmet voice thing. "You want to kill me? You will die here before you even pull the trigger. Join me, and I'll teach you power greater than you've ever known, and you will kill /Jedi/." Unless they're wiped out by the time these kids are old enough, but let's not get into that. The lightsaber in his hand deactivates, shuddering back into its hilt as he draws himself up to his full height. "Decide."
Shnnkktt, there goes Smadriz's trident and the boy looks visibly startled, hopping back a step as he goes from BadAss Mando-Warrior to orphan boy not wanting to die, even wetting his pants as he stands there, blood drained from his face, eyes welling up with tears. Artemis and Drath are intimidating, yes, but about as intimidating as Requibba was, that sort of 'I know what's best for you so I'm going to seem mean but I really love you' sort of way, whereas HADRIX is terrifying. HE'S MISSING HALF HIS FACE. OR HIS HELMET WHICH IS HIS FACE. AAAAH. The toddlers and smaller children stay within their crates, crying loudly and trying to soothe one another with cuddling huddles.
They were being raised to be great warriors, and these were OBVIOUSLY great warriors. Their adoptive and birth parents were teaching them to kill the best and toughest of all, including the storied Jedi. So ..wouldn't it make sense to go with them? And they /talk/ like their adoptive parents. Beckie is sobbing heavily, having dropped down after tossing her club away, hands pressing to her face as she sobs away, unable to stop. The other three handle it a little bit better, hearing Oran and Kylo and reasoning that ...these are even better warriors than their current clan, Tal.
The threat of death is of course a really good motivator, "Jetiise?" Little Arty, the least scared of them all surprisingly enough, says as she steps forwards, her blaster having been tossed away, body shaking hard like a leaf though she's ready to bargain. She IS the fourth eldest in the group, "You are gonna take all of us, right? And then we can all be great warriors?"
Instinctively she moves towards Artemis, the only female in the group and the one that sounds just like Requibba in sternness, the crying children who were already orphaned once finding themselves in much the same situation as before. Only one of them has a glowy stick and another one can CRUSH PEOPLE WITH HIS MIND!
"Guys, we've got incoming, they're about ..twenty out from what I can see from their lights way off ...hurry up, this storm is getting nasty and we got these kids to bunk." A lengthy pause from Starbucks who is now inside the cargo ship in the pilots seat, waiting on them, "Please tell me you didn't kill them all." And this intrepid group of ..heroes to the First Order and all her holdings, manage to bring about the kids to the transport before the hunting party returns.
When they do return they're eating the dust and sand of the cargo ship which launches moments before their arrival, the Tal Clan finding all their children gone and their minders dead, this devastating their numbers and their future.