Log:Mandalorians: Culling

Culling

OOC Date: February 21, 2021
Location: Ealor - Bysis System
Participants: Mandalorians, Rathe Kora, Sumi Kora, Aubrei, Zelo Parrai, Hahtavi and Hadrix Kora as GM Clan Kora

Craft coming in on the hunting zone would give up the game, so the Mandalorians moving through the forests of Ealor have bee on foot for several kilometers. Weaving between trees and undergrowth and finding the leavings of those who have become careless among the prey.

<<"Looks like they've grown too used to having their run of the woodlands.">> Hadrix's voice over comms while the lot move. <<"That new one we picked up on Felucia - used that old stealth tech of hers and went ahead of us.">> Either claiming glory or being threatened to be the next roasted alive.

Beskar'gam style boot prints mixing among some of those of rough craft leather moccasins, disappearing in a copse, but with a thickening trail of more primitive sorts of footwear joining in rivulets from other points before descending into a shallow, tree filled ravine. And Sumi's keen vision spying one thing in particular. Deep prints near a tree, a pair of small craters in the side of a trunk opposite them. Crude arrows, a spear.

Drag marks going deeper in.

Marching along, this isn't a new experience for him exactly. However it's one Rathe has less practice with these days. He knows enough to not vanish into sinkholes, deadfalls, traps, and be relatively quiet. That's taxing his rusty reflexes.

It does not help that Rathe is keyed up and all too eager to kill every possible living thing he can get in his sights.

He notes the boot prints, and how quickly they vanish. The scouts skill becoming apparent there. For him, the focus is external of their ragged movement line. He has no complaints on their staggered approach, it just makes sense. Taking to the air to speed things along would be efficient, and very foolish... especially after the ghost he saw the last time he used his rocketpack.

<"I am certain there will be plenty enough to go around,"> Sumi says, squashing any possible notion that one Mandalorian would get all the kills. While this newcomer might be capable of such, Sumi also knew the cultist here grew on trees and survived like roaches. Killing them all was not a possibility, but that's what made it fun.

Never a fan for long hikes, Sumi resides at the rear of the group, breathing heavier, perhaps heaviest of all. Sweat beads her brow, despite wearing a helmet, and her knees remind her that they're displeased with this current scenario. She makes no effort to lament about the rigors of long range hiking. Such experiences are character building, and they helped with the endeavor of keeping her in fighting shape, no matter how much the noodles of Nar Shaddaa begged to differ.

Walking with some ease, Sumi holds her flamer rifle up, resting the top of its receiver off the top of her shoulder, it pilot flame on and wicking idly, awaiting for the propulsion of the chemicals in the tank to generate that wonderful, plasma fire.

Ealor, a place he's heard the others speak of but hasn't been to before, himself. After landing the kimogila and met up with the others, Hahtavi now moves through the tall grasses as quietly as he reasonably may, eyes and ears alert. His visor turns this way and that slowly as he moves, watchful - though he gets distracted by the local wildlife as a colorful bird flits through the trees ahead. He's not one who's well used to growing things and as they approach the trees in the ravine, he slows. His helmetted head he cranes to look up at the branches and leaves, distrustful of what they might conceal.

No clumping up. Spread out a bit, yet he'll follow along the foot steps of another up ahead. Hahtavi glances back to check their six but Sumi's got drag this time. She can't see it but he grins at seeing her carrying a flamer this time.

Then his attention goes to where he's walking, ducking under a low vine and mindful of things like tripwires, pit traps, or movement in the trees.

Zelo seems resigned to spending his time in nature this week. At least it's not so oppressively hot and humid as Ryloth, but that excursion had taken its toll. The Nautolan is a little groggy, having slept in hyperspace on the way over. Dappled forest green and ash-smoke grey skyripper armor blends and falls in the shadows as the pilot looks for any clean line of sight. Of course, he finds none. He holds the E-11 tight in his gauntleted hands and waits for something to shoot. That's why they're here, after all: to shoot people. From the look of technology levels... It's pretty close to unarmed people, effectively. The Nautolan mutters under his breath, in his helmet, without vocoder or comms. It helps wake his eyes up, the more he gets his blood going.

The chanting from the creature in its strange headdress that likely carries some modicum of power is half of her focus as Aubrei wiggles and strains. At least for the moment the blood is not rushing to her head as she remains standing, tied to a stick that is meant to hold her weight, armor and all over the roaring fire that is meant for her. Yes, her. Flattering that a gathering is to be about you but in the current situation she would much rather be elsewhere. She grunts, pullinga t her hands and twisting, trying to find something loose to exploit as the once clean and aged crusader armor is thoroughly painted with clay hand prints and religious markings. Part of one hand covers her visor, blocking out her vision as she does not call out for the others, could prove troublesome for them if they come running towards her location.

The sound of her breath fills her helmet and softly she grumbles about paying better attention. She moves her wrist but the edge of her armor is caught in the crude wrapped binding.

A glimpse of the firelight through the thick clustering of trees descending to the floor of the ravine, widening into shallow valley filled with old growth. Where there are no game paths there are dense patches of bushes and flowering vines. No corridors for movement, only weaving trails left by the hungry worshippers of some dark, forgotten, deity.

The priest, garbed in skins and crowed in headdress of of skulls fused around their head continues - the worshippers chant and circle while their sacrifice is prepared for addition to the others. Their screams had been long gone, clothing and hair burned away, mouths frozen in screams as they roasted.

It's on the perimeter that some turn, towards the forest lands. Movement - even though the treelines near the clearing they have adopted for their rituals - spotted but not confirmed, several break off from the celebration and point, calling out in their own language a warning that turns heads.

Silence is not normally his strong suit in -ANY- situation. Ever. But moving with a purpose, such as killing? Rathe is more focused, so much more focused. His visor turns towards the others, specifically watching Zelo here and there. Not that he has to worry much about a sniper in their natural habitat of stalking prey it seems. He takes cover behind a large tree for the moment, considering what he is looking at.

He exhales, trying to calm himself mentally. But his mind is a howling beast of rage and hatred... Rathe really has become the creature that emerged post-Exegol.

No speeches, no warnings, no calls to surrender. Just a rapidly snapped up E-11 and two shots back to back. Rathe drops the weapon into his holster. Bolted to the exterior of his calf armor is his vibrosword, which puts the hilt just mid thigh. His left hand closes upon it, and draws it to transfer to the right.

A duelists stance, and he points the wepaon at the vibroweapon wielding priest. <<"The one with the vibro is mine.">>

What can possibly go wrong?

Sumi glances up to the air, not feeling like she can stomach hiding for much longer. It's not the smell that prompts this action, or even witnessing the cooking, and/or consumption of sentients, it's her knees that essentially forbid her from running out there and causing a ruckus. So Sumi does the reasonable thing:

A thunderous sounding rocket engine heralds her sudden approach, and the century old Mandalorian warrior lands in the midst of their tiki-torch party. <"They don't look done enough.."> She comments, raising her rifle up and pressing the trigger. a WOOOOOOOSH noise followed as green plasma flames consumed her forward area and lit up the place with an eerie glow. The human on the rotating spit /melts/ off, meat and bone alike, and the flames of the wood-burned fire billow out with embers that seem to encase the blue armored warrior.

<"No! Come back! Hahaha!"> Sumi calls out, turning her ire, ineffectively, toward the crowd of cultists and decorating the place in a hue of green flame mixed with the falling orange embers of the dispersed camp fires! <"Hahaha.. come get some!">

There is a tree, nice, big and gnarly and it makes a decent place to step up to and peer around. Not exactly hiding like the others but using the tree's thick trunk for cover. Hahtavi raises the rifle he's carrying, a different flavour every week, as he watches the movement through the trees ahead. There goes Sumi, up, up and away! But not him. Hahtavi keeps his place and waits for one of the tribals to come towards him and then fires two shots in rapid sequence. The first misses but the second doesn't.

And down the Ealorian native goes, into the leaf mold!

The second Zelo catches sight of the ritual ground, the burned sacrifices - or meals... The muttering stops. The Nautolan goes silent in his helmet. This? This isn't killing people, this is a proper and needed cleansing - something he and Mhunir had done more than a few times before. Not... This flavor, but sometimes there's no redeeming qualities in a person. When they'll burn another sentient and dance by the fire... It makes Zelo's conscience a lot quieter. He's doing the same thing to them that they do to others. But he's not a dancer.

Lifting the sacred E-11 to his shoulder, Zelo's a marksman. Of course, here in the jungle, there are plenty of things that interfere with a marksman's shot: trees, foliage... Birds. A bright green bird crosses his barrel just as he pulls the trigger on one of the cultists on the periphery. <"Kriffing birds!"> An unfortunate explosion of feathers temporarily hides the source of the second bolt that leaves on the same course - finding its target dead center in the middle of one specific cultist's chest. He shakes his head, stepping quickly to a tree to take some cover while a couple of quick snaps of his left gauntlet catch a few of the falling feathers, which he quickly tucks into the back of his right gauntlet, along his wrist. "Waste not," he says inside his helmet as he waits for some sort of orders.

<"Not really interested in food, or eating, please..."> Aubrei says as several get closer. She pulls at her other arm, giving a tight strain on the bindings and feeling the bindings strain, stretch and finally snap, she whips one arm free of the restraint, Theo the other still tangled up with the stick as she uses that to keep them at bay when Sumi lands close by.

Her head turns and the muddied visor recognizes the ally for what she is even if she battle cries.

Aubrei uses the stick still attached to her left arm to keep them back as she pistol is drawn from her side and readied, her finger slipping over the toggle for stun. She's ready.

In the wake of the blasterfire and flames the cultists begin screaming and jabbering in whatever language their basic has devolved into. Spears are hefted and thrown towards the Mandalorians on approach while the ones of greater standing lift cutting weapons of repurposed durasteel with forward hooked blades that look to be intended to hack off limbs or sever tendons.

Hadrix tries to lend aid, tagging attack and cover points with blinks and tab bites - working fast and then noticing the particular whine from his weapon of choice. A single, large, green bolt explodes from the woodlands, passing over the cultists heads while the Al'Verde is launched backwards from the overcharged kick of his weapon. Muffled call of surprise audible outside of his helmet while he hits the ground and slides in leaf litter until he comes to rest against a tree. Shaking his head and coughing before a flung blade from one of the zealots strikes his helm, sending off sparks and bringing the man to his feet, <"Oh... You sonova!!">

They attempt to semi-circle who they can, dividing their attacks between the mandalorians, trying to weaken the hunting pack with cries of outrage and the smells of... filth that has been coated on their blades to cause pain, bring infection... and no small degree of disgusted horror.

The priest though, he raises a spear made of durasteel piping with a dagger blade thrusting from one end and lets loose a warbling, high pitched, cry as he charges Sumi whom has begun desecrating the ritual with her unnatural fire. Trying to put the hypersonic vibrating weapon through her chest plate.

Suddenly! Fire! Sumi has the right idea, Rathe has a moment to consider as she lands and whirls about like a murderous pinwheel firework. Hahtavi lands a shot, and Zelo just keeps attracting birds. Out of nowhere Rathe has to idly wonder if they just sense the Nautolan as seafood potential. But he makes good on the follow up shot and Rathe just nods. Noone has spotted the scout yet that Rathe is still trying to figure out. Hopefully she has not become food, steamed and cracked open like some sort of stealthy crustacean. It seems unlikely, but it's Ealor.

There's a pwang! And Hadrix just suddenly vanishes from view leaving Rathe to tap at his helmet. The IFF on the HUD suddenly teleported Hadrix from one spot, to several meters back. He mutters inside his helmet. "This thing must be on the fritz." He'll believe this until he watches the replay later. The playback feature of Dreadfinder is simply amazing.

In the meantime, Rathe has issues of his own as a Spear sinks into his arm, catching that one weak spot and leaving him to wonder if those damn things are Beskar-Tipped. He plucks up a bactapatch and jams it into the armor and seals the wound. Having learned the last time to not simply march to murder. Speaking of murder.

He takes the steps forwards needed to launch into the air!

Hop!

One of these days Rathe is going to have a look at the firing stud for that rocketpack. For now all he can do is advance tree to tree for cover with his sword at low ready.

Sumi is surrounded on all sides by leering faces. Thoughts of being killed, and potentially eaten, are far from her mind, forced back by the sudden presence of their priest. He leaped through the flames, weapon in hand, and swung. Sumi had enough time to duck, but the priest was relentless in their assault. She fell backward onto a table, rolled off it, and rose back up surrounded by hungry cultists too. Four!

In the chaos, Sumi takes a blow to the chest that knocks her backward. She manages to stay on her feet and raises her weapon to fire back, literally. While the flames do not lick any of them, it puts purpose enough in their steps to get the rekk back from her.

No sooner did Hahtavi shoot one than another manages to get past the tree trunk and nail him with a spear. The point stabs him in the ribs of his right side between armor plates, <<" Agh! ">> Who writes his lines anyway?!

The tree for cover thing isn't working out as well as hoped when there are three of them on you so Hahtavi promptly shoots another of the Ealorian tribals, this one right in the face! BLAM! His second shot goes foul, hitting a clump of ferns past his target. A great reminder to keep aware of allies who might be downrange!

Hahtavi twists and tries to get another few trees between himself and his attackers, without tripping and falling on his butt, idealy! Hopping roots, ducking limbs, it's not a kind of fighting he's used to! It's forcing him to divide his attenion with little left to keep tabs on how the others are doing.

Plenty of foliage to obscure his line of sight anyway!

Birds are forgotten as everything continues to cascade. The Alor is up in the middle of things and flinging fire, the Al'verde is temporarily blown back by... Let's call it the ferocity of his attacks, Hahtavi and Zelo are both set about to do the work while Rathe, sword drawn, prepares a charge. But the tide of cultists is joining them, and spears are flying every which direction, cutting through the air, or finding the soft spots in armor, or making nice breezes for Zelo as he dances around the tree, like he did earlier in the week on Nar Shaddaa - this time, he's rearranging spears and branches instead of keeping failing dancers upgright. He loses track of Rathe as he fires the E-11 almost from the hip - aim is almost a non-factor when a foe is this close - in reflexive shots that down two of the more... Zealous attackers. Not that that means much when there are still so very many left.

<"We'd call this a hive, right? This feels like a hive. Think we kicked it a little. Next time, smoke it out maybe?"> Trying for banter, it really just sounds like he's picking at everything about their strategy, and he's not. He's just disgusted by these beings and doesn't want to understand them; he doesn't want to know what they dreamed, or longed to be when they were growing. He doesn't wonder what he's stopped - the bodies on fires spell that out perfectly for him. Still, there are so many of them.

Birds are forgotten as everything continues to cascade. The Alor is up in the middle of things and flinging fire, the Al'verde is temporarily blown back by... Let's call it the ferocity of his attacks, Hahtavi and Zelo are both set about to do the work while Rathe, sword drawn, prepares a charge. But the tide of cultists is joining them, and spears are flying every which direction, cutting through the air, or finding the soft spots in armor, or making nice breezes for Zelo as he dances around the tree, like he did earlier in the week on Nar Shaddaa - this time, he's rearranging spears and branches instead of keeping failing dancers upgright. He loses track of Rathe as he fires the E-11 almost from the hip - aim is almost a non-factor when a foe is this close - in reflexive shots that down two of the more... Zealous attackers. Not that that means much when there are still so very many left.

<"We'd call this a hive, right? This feels like a hive. Think we kicked it a little. Next time, smoke it out maybe?"> Trying for banter, it really just sounds like he's picking at everything about their strategy, and he's not. He's just disgusted by these beings and doesn't want to understand them; he doesn't want to know what they dreamed, or longed to be when they were growing. He doesn't wonder what he's stopped - the bodies on fires spell that out perfectly for him. Still, there are so many of them.

With a wild thrashing of her left hand, Aubrie sheds the stick she is tied to and starts for the net gun but stops when the Priest tangles with Sumi. There is a huffed out breath and she aims, dashing her hand at the dried clay across her right eye are of her t-visor. She gives herself a clearer view and lifts the gun. Stun rings are successively squeezed off and both hitting his back with a sound of delight. The pistol is still held out, ready to shoot again as she backs up, feeling with her feet for the position of the net gun. Finding it with her foot she straddles the weapon and turns her head to watch Rathe attempt to Rocket and fail, her head tilting back and up.

Aubrei lets out a sound and glances at the others. <"I am fine. All is fine. I am not on fire."> Reassuring is the quick witted voice that chimes out over the comms. She continues to flip toss her hand around to try to get rid of the bindings coiled around her left arm and hand.

A cultist is vaporized from the belly down by another emerald shooting star from the treeline, shrieking out their last while their torso summersaults and lands on the ground. Hadrix is moving forward, despite the kick of the weapon trying to send him hurtling back again. The cannon roars again and a head bursts like a melon, sending the body to the ground like a marionette with strings cut.

The priest? His headdress falls to the ground while blue stun energy sends heat lightning and azure glow over his form, coughing, jerking, and twisting while his muscles go through violent convulsions. His spear being swung around hard, if with a dazed expression working across his painted features in a sloppy cross-body aimed for Sumi's stomach.

Spears continue to rain down, pulled from back sheafs, throwing axes made with flint, and even wooden clubs edged with sharp stone. One spear thunking into Hadrix's leg and a club smashing against his arm, to dent in metal and threatening to crack bone. The chaos is at a premium and for the moment they continue to attack with a manic will, a few even dipping cudgels with rags into fire to make flaming brands to strike with as they attempt to charge.

There is much going on at once, Rathe's vision narrows along with his concentration. There's Aubrei spotted at last, and he feels some measure of responsibility as much as he does for Zelo as she is his guest. Along with Trip. Absentmindedly, he wouldn't mind throwing about the little Stabbit right about now. He has other things on his mind like AUBREI STUNNING HIS RAGE TARGET! <"Hey! That one is mine!"> He cries out as Aubrei stuns the hell out of Mr. Fancy Headdress! Sumi is right there in the mix, and Rathe is positive he is about to miss out on a challenging target.

Rather foolish of him to think so considering he's been stabbed with a spear... again. He should have walked around the other side of that last tree, or used someone else for cover. Like Hahtavi. This time he ignores the wound, it can't bleed much if there's still a spear in it!

Somehow that priest is still up stunned! Impressive! Rathe recognizes a medical marvel when he sees one. Time to study it up close and personal. He takes several long steps, the golden blade of his Vibrosword rather out of place in such a location, his grip shifts on the Wroshyr hilt. No fanfare, he just lunges the blade forewards before that spear comes back his way.

The priest is skewered and ended, and as Rathe pulls his weapon free, he swipes the blade out horizontally from the collapsing corpse to slash right across the chest of one of the hungry cultists... which immediately runs for his life before Rathe can finish it.

Unfortunately, the cultist are quite mindful and well aware what the flames intend to do to them, or more to the point, what Sumi wants to do with them. That fate is avoided well, leaving Sumi fending for herself until there is a moment when a pair of blue array cut across the expanse to find the Priest. Sumi looks to the source of origin, finding Aubrei the culprit. <"Nice shots!"> Then Sumi's hit, moreover, her weapon is hit by the recovering priest who bats her flame rifle down to the ground, snapping the one-point sling at the buckle!

Sumi is not defenseless, she had others to choose from. However, she couldn't draw quick enough to mitigate the threat and was forced to fallback with a small leap over a firepit. Unfortunately, that segued to another ambush, and Sumi is accosted on all sides once again. She puts distance between her foes, and herself, adopting a cross-lateral shooting grip of a handcannon she's produced from a holster strapped to her thigh.

Close quarters is where Sumi is most at home, and while this fight has proven a bit overwhelming, the century old soldier is having the time of her life, and laughing even.

The priest is no longer pursuing her it seems, or is ..caught up with someone else. A quick glance reveals the coup de gras from Rathe who makes quick work of the target she failed to fry. <"Well done, Rathe! Hahaha!">

The whole focusing carefully on dodging, leaping, and NOT tripping over tree roots as he keeps moving seems to be working to save his skin as Hahtavi's right side bleeds. Three of the savages are on him but their attacks miss him, striking air or the trees instead! The clanless Mandalorian manages a quick glance to try and locate others of his teammates but it is difficult to see in this chaos! Thank goodness for his upgraded armor's HUD to show him markers for their various locations.

Another shot is fired, followed by another. The second burns a hole in one of the zealous fiends and that one decides to cut and run! Breathing a little hard, Hahtavi toggles his coms, <<" What's our status, over? Anybody need assistance?" >> Hahtavi changes his direction to try and close up with some of his slightly scattered teammates. Fog of battle, anyone?

Why are there bright green irridescent feathers scattered all over the ground between these trees?? What a vivid, odd thing to notice while fighting for your life! Hey, Rathe! Hahtavi's over here!

The whole focusing carefully on dodging, leaping, and NOT tripping over tree roots as he keeps moving seems to be working to save his skin as Hahtavi's right side bleeds. Three of the savages are on him but their attacks miss him, striking air or the trees instead! The clanless Mandalorian manages a quick glance to try and locate others of his teammates but it is difficult to see in this chaos! Thank goodness for his upgraded armor's HUD to show him markers for their various locations.

Another shot is fired, followed by another. The second burns a hole in one of the zealous fiends and that one decides to cut and run! Breathing a little hard, Hahtavi toggles his coms, <<" What's our status, over? Anybody need assistance?" >> Hahtavi changes his direction to try and close up with some of his slightly scattered teammates. Fog of battle, anyone?

Why are there bright green irridescent feathers scattered all over the ground between these trees?? What a vivid, odd thing to notice while fighting for your life! Hey, Rathe! Hahtavi's over here!

Things are getting hairier now. As the cultists close in, only the IFF in his visor is telling Zelo where his people are, and he dodges while planning to shoot in between the friendlies. Wouldn't take much to hit something nasty. As he's doing his best to avoid the pointy sticks and jibbering cultists, he hears Aubrei's voice on the comm. The context confuses him though and, as he moves around the tree, he spots Aubrei in the middle of the camp - not where he'd expect the scout to be. That temporary a-HA moment costs his focus though, and a spear finds space for itself between two of his ribs, narrowly missing one of his hearts while making an unpleasant and gross hole where the Nautolan doesn't want one. A wordless roar come out of his vocoder as he wheels the E-11 around to take aim at the offending cultist, but settling for twin pulls on the first one to cross his barrel. The first is snapped early, but the second hits center mass, dropping the figure to the ground. <"Kriff that stings! Status is keep shooting until the stabbing people stop stabbing, isn't it?"> Zelo thinks he's in decent pain as he calls out to Hahtavi from not-so-far away, but wait until the shots. He's going to need shots after that one.

<<"Aubrei, you always get this close to things?">> The Nautolan's voice is a little gritty, on account of his teeth clenching, but he sends comm traffic over that way. Yelling across a cultist camp would just be rude.

<"I am sorry, Rathe Kora but I did not see your name on him. Besides, he was blessing me for their meal. I am pretty sure if anyone in this crazy mess has dibs, its me...."> Aubrei remarks back as her pistol is lofted, turned and stun rings fly, the first hitting a tree and the second slamming into a cultist to take him down - breathing but down. The blood from the priest is ignored, or she tries to before Sumi calls out and she nods, <"Thanks....do not think we have met...?">

Its becoming chaos when the almost familiar voice catches her and she tilts her head up and she begins to reply when the blade comes down heavily and finds an opening in the durasteel leg armor. Letting out a sound across the comms of pain. <<"Leg hit...but otherwise breathing. As for close, yes....life of a scout. Normally I do not get drawn out of hiding.">> She admits, feeling heat rush in her cheeks for the admittance of it.

<<"Fair Aubrei. You're still alive.">> Hadrix grumbles as he continues his forward stalking, long rifle detonating another of the cultists as one of the hook bladed fanatics slams her blade in from the side, catching the big man's cuirass in a hail of sparks. The last of that one's fellows? He runs with the fall of the priest at the end of Rathe's blade. A panic'd cry going up as a full half the surviving number take flight with their religious leader gone.

Among those who had dropped weapons to take flight, or simply fell from injury to lay barely living - there are still some that rip weapons from fleeing hands to hurl at their enemies. Trying to group up, present no flank nor back exposed. But it's a telling loss of numbers. The ritual circle.

<<"Alor, suggest ignore retreating force, butcher the rest - send our message... Ordinance?">> Hadrix's voice cutting in on comms again as he quick-blinks paths and potential cover to the others, his rifle coughing fire but only churning up the ground when the pull of the cultist's blade brings him off balance.

The remaining forces are at least attempting to make a good show of it, even if they don't think to focus their attacks. Desperate tactics. A rabble, not a fighting force. If they'd had the element of surprise? Maybe they would have prevailed better. Maybe that will be the suggestion of those fleeing.

<"Sumi!"> Rathe isn't completely lost just yet, he catches she's lost her weapon. He need not have concern, it's Sumi and she is back into the killing. In answer to her compliment and pleasure at his kill, he raises the Vibrosword up before his visor in salute. 'Assistance' it floats in the back of his mind. Rathe's not doing his job, he's lost to the need to kill and kill and kill until everything turns black one way or another.

Zelo's voice informs his distracted mind that his ward is doing just fine, what can possibly go wrong for Zelo now? Rathe imagines nothing, and that Zelo is just going to dodge all the spears and make with the expert shooting.

Aubrei's voice cuts through some of his red haze. That visor stares at her a moment at her response towards the Priest not having his name on it. <"Oh yeah?!"> He flicks the blade of the vibrosword into the corpse.... POORLY. Instead of the R to mark it for Rathe... Rathe's mark looks like he's had a stroke. <"Now it does!"> Sort of, if you tilt your head just right. Maybe.

For once, Rathe does NOT take a spear, but he's also still not paying attention to those that have. He shifts in place reversing his grip on the Vibrosword. Sidestepping and stepping forwards, Rathe takes a cultist with an upwards slash, point down. The cultist lives, and Rathe uses the return motion to drive the blade up and behind him for a more effective, but not quite mortal stab into another hungry cultist. Muffled in the helmet, a wordless scream of hate, pain and rage as he tries to wade further into gore.

Sumi switches shooting stances in the last second, smoothly sliding into a bilateral and firing in quick succession. Two for the more zealous of the two, the second shot finding purchase. Before that zealous has even hit the ground, she engages a second hungry looking foe as they approach too. A single shot to the face, and his body joins the other, leaving Sumi in her follow through, tracking for targets. As her weapon lowers, she answers Aubrei casually. <"I am called Sumi Kora.">

Moving on from her kills, Sumi begins looking for survivors and she kicks their weapons away before stomping on hands to break them. Would they be tortured? It remains to be seen, but they won't be attacking again for awhile at least.

Rathe's yell for her went unanswered, not because she had ignored him, but because she hadn't heard it. When he yelled, she'd been contending with several foes. Hadrix's communication though has her gaze angling toward the retreat. She considers a moment, then nods her head. <<"Yeah. Wipe them out if you can.">> Fearful cultists led to more cultists, and she would rather sleep easy in the fortress, than have to worry about someone sneaking into her quarters to cut her throat!

Several of the cannibals turn to flee with only a few left behind. It allows Hahtavi time to close up ranks with some of the others, coming near to Zelo. Another shot is fired, striking and taking down a savage - but his rifle fires empty on the second attempt. Amplified by his helmet he yells after them, <" Ash'amur, di'kuts! ">

His side hurts and Hahtavi can feel blood trickling down his side inside of his armor. He must ignore it. Turning, he goes to try and find the others - and he's closest to Zelo's location, whom he doesn't know is badly hurt, yet.

Zelo is really not a fan of being this close. Give him a counter-sniper or an artillery battery to face, any day of the week. They don't put poodoo-covered SPEARS in you. Zelo's alreadyy hissing through his teeth as he continues to work his way through the cultists, thinking to head in Hahtavi's direction - guy seems to be having a rough go at the moment. Maybe it's some of the blood loss, may it's the spirit of an angry bird haunting him, but Zelo doesn't notice the cultist slip out from the other side of a tree and wheel around him. He DOES finally notice when the point of that cultist's spear goes into the back of his leg, fairly-well clipping a very important ligament and possibly some large veins as thick, blue blood is seeping out from behind his knee guard. Zelo doesn't know anatomy but he's pretty sure that ligament was important as his left leg just flops out from beneath him.

A scream follows, though it's anyone's guess if it's more rage or pain. Flopping over, his leg protesting all the way, Zelo still screams, scraping his vocal cords as both of his shots go wide - thankful be all Mandalorians that he didn't have his vocoder turned on, or his comms. Looking up at the cultist that brought him to his knees and then some, Zelo continues to threaten with the gun as a bright red glow leaks out of the ring between his helmet and the rest of his armor. He's having a hard time focusing those black-pool eyes under his visor, only seeing the massive flare of a plasma-laced metal bolt as it flies across him, taking the offending cultist down. Still, he points the gun, seeing too much red in his vision to even think of calling for help. His mind won't focus enough for that. Not even enough to call for their war medic.

Rathe's obvious descecration of the deceased gives the armored figure of Aubrei pause, favoring that injured left leg as she follows the past of the remaining as the others take off. <"Aubrei, simply..Aubrei,"> she replies to Sumi without turning back as she lifts her blaster and aids in bringing down the last that remain even as the rest are quickly vacating. One shot hits again, the circular stun ring finding its target as the woman side steps and catches herself against a tree as her left leg decides to be a pain. They are in the clear and she slowly lowers down to grab at her net gun and sling it on her shoulder.

Its the cry of Zelo that draws her attention and she is moving, ignoring the pain as she hobbles over towards his direction, <"Zelo!"> Concern rings true in her voice as she closes the distance finally and goes to a knee.

<"I can help!">

Those that remain do not stay as such for long, blasterfire and blades whittling numbers down rapidly. Some blasted to pieces and others falling with smoking holes blasted into their bodies. The last that stands turns to one side, then the other. Alone and surrounded by the the armored creatures they seek to consume and gain the power of.

That is the teachings. Consume and take their power. Not strong enough today, their priest dead, his cohort destroyed or fled. So that one poor wretch turns to flee, screaming into the forest lands after the others that have retreated.

<<"No approaching figures, they're routing... They're getting better at their weaponcrafting though.">> Hadrix continues to grumble in pained tones with blood running from arm and leg.

It's quiet though, that long quiet in the aftermath that makes the completion of conflict almost anti-climatic. The sowing rattles of the wounded and dying after their initial screams of agony from Sumi's quite literal disarming; replacing where forest insects might have been, or birdsong. Even the cries of the cultists have ended as they seek to preserve their lives.

<<"Pheergus. Greeza. Go by my tracking data. Track and eliminate.">> Sumi's orders being carried out when the scream of the X-17 air speeders, aerospace fighters, come from the direction of the fortress, munitions loads clamped beneath their S-foils coming online to track for fire when the situation allows.

<<"Copy, Al'Verde - we're en route and preparing incendiary munitions">> the twi'lek woman's voice, announcing intention to unleash portable firestorms, to be used where friendly fire won't be an issue. Flame can be good in many old growth forests, natural forest fires allow seeds that require extreme heat to open, so that new life can take root.

In this case new life to replace the perversion of it hiding in the shadows and seeking to consume their ambushed victims.

Kill. That's all he wants to do. All of them. Everything that is an eligible deserving target should and must die. He is oblivious to anything right now that is not war. He needs to burn it all from his system, and it is no overnight task. The call for the rain of hate and discontent is nearly lost to Rathe. His mind just catches the edge of it, and he turns as much for that as the fact he hears the relative newcomer cry out that she can help. The blood is flicked away from his Vibrosword... and the motion brings Zelo into focus of all things.

Kriff. He thinks it. Loud, and the red fades from the center of his vision to the edges. A wipe pulled from his belt to run over the vibrosword once he deactivates it. He sheathes it, and then is kneeling by Zelo on his right knee specifically. This keeps the medpac upright on his thigh. <"My right thigh. Help the others."> This is for Aubrei. <<"Hadrix, will have one seriously injured for Evac...">>

Rathe is pushing away at a voice from memory in his mind. He's let Karys down this time... Zelo is his responsibility. He's shaking from the Adrenaline dump, and in a recessed corner of his mind. His rage screams and resists against being shackled once more.

Sumi holsters her weapon after flicking the safe back on with her thumb. One cultist is dying, choking on blood or breath, she can't tell to be honest. She just sits down on their chest, digging her boot heels into the ground at each side of their head to stair down at them while they looked about dying. Her helmet comes off, and she pats out a smoke, lighting it, and breathing out a plume shortly after. "..this is nice.." Sumi comments casually, about the weather tonight, the quiet, and the dying fellow she sat on while smoking. She brings the smoke back to her lips for a thoughtful toke again, and just adopts a long stare.

Not a fight to rile up the blood and make it sing. Not so much. Yet, he killed several of them and came out only lightly wounded himself, this time. Hahtavi takes a careful look around to make certain the savages are in full retreat ere he'll go to Zelo. Aubrei is already there so he stops and looks for Rathe while he reloads.

Thankfully, Rathe snaps out of his blood haze long enough to realize they have wounded. So Hahtavi refrains from calling for their medic. His own wound modest, the clanless man turns away to keep watch, rifle reloaded. "Hadrix also needs a baar'ur." Sumi? Her sitting on one of the dying Ealorians and having a smoke. Now there is an image that'll stick in his mind for years to come. If he lives that long.

Still the red glow emanates from beneath the helmet. Zelo hasn't been in this kind of pain since he was flung 30 meters down from a YT-1760 and took the landing... On a leg. The other leg, though. Leg wounds really hurt, it turns out. He's trying to bite back the scream, trying to keep some of the air in his lungs as he swallows back on the pain, but it comes in ragged chunks, and some of it goes to his stomach which is still clenching as his body tries to fight the pain. Fighting the pain makes it worse... Then something else comes in his vision. Visor shows IFF. Black-eyes see Aubrei, kneeling beside him.

'I can help!'

He continues to try to fight the pain, but his mind tries to just watch the armored figure, looking for green eyes behind a reflective visor. Everything is metal, and cold, except his blood, but... His body's feeling pretty cold as that leaks out. But her voice buoys him. Then Rathe is there, he of the medical stabbery, and Zelo's wounds are tended to. <"I'm glad no one... Was hurt... Too badly."> He grunts with the pain, and then finally, all of it too much for him, he passes out, even as his wounds are dressed and seen to by some very capable hands. Finally, his breathing evens out as black takes the inside of his eyes as much as it covers the outside.

Blood loss will take it out of you.

She has no gear on her and so help is relative, but then there is Rathe, a little late, still coming down off his battle high and the visor of the old helmet stares at him, as if judging the medic. But Aubrei merely nods and reaches out to take the items off of him, pulling free a few for herself, resting them beside her but then gathering everything off to move closer to Hahtavi. She reaches up, removing her helmet to set it aside and lets out a breath. "Let me see the wounds," she remarks to Hahtavi, the figure that would not shake her hand. But this is a matter of wounds and infection and she begins to address the one in his right ribs. "Hold still, please...I will take care of you as best I can here but you may need further help once we return to safety."

She is quick to begin cleaning, gently pushing, wiping and more to get the wound open enough to place the bacta dispenser into place and then presses the patch over it as well to help give the wound safety from the air and the elements.

Her head turns, worry clear in her eyes for Zelo, the worse off of all of them. She looks to Haht, "Good enough for now." She starts to rise up, taking the spare materials with her to be able to tend her own wound. "I can help you back." she clips her helmet to her belt and will offer a shoulder to the injured - whoever needs it but her gaze is on Zelo.

Explosions and fire in the forests further on as people are tended. Death and destruction meters away while healing and saving of life washes through the clearing. Injuries tended, projectiles tossed to the ground and even the distant chaos fades to heavy quiet.

Helmet off Hadrix comes to stand next to where Sumi sits, cigarra being lit while she comments on the evening. "I'll set up tracking. Pheergus and Greeza are bound to lose one or two in the forest. Bombing run or no... Once I know where they're going, I'll let you know and we can trace and purge."

Organic and bionic gaze sweeping to the other figures around, holding on Aubrei. Studious rather than the normal predator examination. The lot illuminated by the growing flames claiming a patch of woodlands in the ravine. A place they will need to leave soon when it becomes an alley of leaping flame. A black scar in the terrain that will one day be green again.

Green to wash away the blood and cover the bones left behind this day.