Davern Korosnos's Story

Ati decided that she could only let this ragtag group stumble about on their own for so long before she would have to be the one to step up. Hanging around here only lessened their chances for survival, and she didn't fancy finding the end of her story written into Dune Sea sands beside an empty water canteen.

Rift handles the Trandoshan. If he had any questions after waking up from a carbonite nap - and she was sure there would be many questions - he could ask them on the move.

"If we want to get any distance covered before dawn, we need to leave now."

The Mandalorian puts action to her words, picking up part of the harness they'd use to drag the water tank across the sands behind them. The other strap she tosses at Davern before looping hers over her good shoulder and giving an experimental tug on the skid. It shifts, the water sloshing in the tank. Not impossible for one person to drag, but it'd be easier - and faster - with a combined effort. Looks like that droid did a passable job.

"We're in the best shape physically. Last thing the concussed need is a rise in blood pressure. We'll shift with them ever other hour. Whoever wants water shares the pulling."

She lets her visor slide slowly over the assembled, well aware of the kind of psychological impact the infamous T-visor could cut. Ati didn't expect them to allow themselves to be afraid of her. Mandalorian armor or not, she was smaller than most of them, and they all fancied themselves quite the hardened murderers. But they couldn't deny that -as- a Mandalorian, she was a potential threat. Arguing her point, or trying to undermine what she perceived as critical to her own survival, would quickly earn them a high place on a short list. Even if they survived her ire, they might not do so in a condition to make it out of the Dune Sea.

Besides, it was just common sense. Cooperate, and they might all just make it.

"Droid. You know the way. Point it out."

With another sharp tug, assuming that Davern does chip in rather than be shown up by a female half his age, Ati gets this show on the road in whatever direction IG indicates.

Davern was sitting around and waiting, watching Rift and the Trandoshan closely as someone finally took charge of the situation. He grinned noticing who it was, both out of amusement and the fact that a chance to show the Protector up had finally come around the corner.

He caught the strap with ease and chuckled under his helmet. "Aye, Aye Ma'am." He muttered sarcastically and nearly mockingly, accepting the task through. "Gar lahm par ibic hibir, gar aalar pel," ( Are you ready pup, you seem soft) he teased her, obviously working at the same tactic she was, "I bet I can pull this thing all day and night without needing a shift change." He voice growled in challenge to the rest of the group. Ati's plan was working on Davern at least.

Then again, Davern was already better off, his suit had climate control, thanks to the integrated Imperial Shocktrooper system. He'd need less water than the others due to this, he had good survival chances. But then again, the deserts of Tatooine were a cruel, many beasts and brigands wandered them. It was a dangerous place. But as long as the large group stuck together, their chances should be better off.

The Mandalorian waited patiently and calmly for the droid to begin giving directions. Night was soon going to set upon them, again, Davern knew what wandered the deserts at night so he'd rather get a move on. The smoke from this wreck would attraction creatures for miles around. It was basically a sure fire way to get attacked by something, not to mention the smell of reeking, burnt flesh scattering into the desert air, which would be carried for miles around due to the low amount of particles of water, to seize the scent. It was a Krayt feast for sure, something no living being should near by when it started.

(Permission from Shadow and Ty.)

At the bequest of the Mandalorian meatbag, IG attempting to bring up a visual map over his comms, only to find them jammed. Which was..... odd, considering comms were fine only a few moments ago.



Dismounting from his perch atop the stern, IG leaped down to the not-so-merry band of organics. Touting his T-6 like it was his scepter of royalty, he quickly scanned over the group.



Zekk, overhearing the plan, used Rift's cloth as a guide over tp them. Feeling out the water tank with his hands, he gradually felt his way up the strap. Whoever was giving the orders was undoubtedly female, he got that from the voice. He could also tell that she had a (hopefully) metaphorical pair that clanked. Still, he was the hindrance to the group. If he couldn't fight, then at least he could carry his own weight, almost literally.



Of course, leave it to the unmistakable Mandalorian to turn this into a dick-measuring contest. Davern looked at the lizard under his visor like it was a maniac for a second. He turned to Ati and chuckled.





Davern growled and sneered for a second.



He stood kind of awkwardly holding the strap, eyes wondering everywhere, but with a big, toothy grin on his face. He wasn't quite sure where he should be facing, but that wasn't a huge issue. He still was waiting for the feel of slack in the fabric, a clear sign that whatever female he was speaking to was relinquishing the burden unto him. Though there was one thing to clear up.



Zekk retrieved Davern's shoulder-harness, and fumbled around with it a bit. Not very successfully, either. Davern was apparently too busy being an ass too aid a blind Trandoshan tie the strap around him, but thankfully Rift stepped in. Zekk was still waiting on the harness from Ati to hand her's over, when something donned on him.



Rift rubbed his eyes. An awkward silence took over after Zekk's request, with everyone seeming to be touching their noses while saying "Not it." Rift, wanting to get this show on the road, groaned and then started after the bow of the ship. He returned a few moments later, holding the axe in his two hands. "Jesus, this thing is heavy as hell." He touched the bottom of the handle to Zekk's hand, letting him know it was there for him to grab. Zekk, knowing his handle anywhere, begins cradling the weapon as if it were his lost child. Collapsing the shaft and attaching it to his back mount, he now was waiting for someone to tie the other harness around him and start mushing the big lizard for like some kind of beast of burden.

Rift tied a rope of clothing around Zekk's waist and then attached it to his own backpack. "Just follow in the direction of the pull Zekk."

The large sun was just barely visible now, slowly being swallowed by the horizon. With this last bit of navigation advice from Zekk, Rift took point, guiding Zekk's path. And so the trek across the desert began, with the scorching heat begging to become blistering cold. the blowing sand seemed to steal the heat right out of your body on contact. The people who had experienced snow would find that this was just as bad, if not worse, and was a lot less comfortable when it go into loose clothing.

Luckily, the moons of Tatooine had a bright shine to them, which allowed sight during the night. But unfortunately, in contrast to the assistance to vision, the winds picked up and caused air-born sand to reduce visibility range. To add to this slight disadvantage of far sight, the large dunes being in everyone's face made looking into the distance that much more difficult.

The water tank pulled mostly smoothly. The sand acted as a nice, ungrounded substance for pulling it. The problems occurred when it had to be pulled over a dune, which was a lot. Traction was near impossible to gain and the puller's feet would sink into the dune, causing a few trips here and there. But what really turned out to be an issue, was bringing it down the other side of the dune. During one of these occurrences, the tank nearly flipped over at the top of the dune and landed on a few group members, which didn't exactly start a peachy conversation.

After only a few hours into night, it became unbearably cold. The group, without any verbal communication, decided to bunker down for the night. Rift supplied Zekk and other survivors with the clothing he had collected in his bag. He wrapped himself up as best he could, and went into a very light sleep. The droid could take watch if necessary.



Upon waking up, Rift could tell something was wrong. It was just one of those bad feelings that he had sometimes, and this was one of them. He got up and put the extra clothes back into the bag, but still kept a few extra layers on. The droid was creepily watching over Koda.

The desert was still freezing cold, but that feeling Rift had was too unsettling for him to ignore. This feeling was shared by Koda, and even by Shikle. Rift awakened the rest of the group, explaining to them that it was time to go.

Without break, the group had traveled the rest night throughout the wastes. Step after step, pull after pull, shiver after shiver, and dune after horrible dune, the suns were finally starting to come up. The morning would begin to rapidly heat everything, and everyone, up.

Rift stopped and turned around, warning everyone that it would be best to take a small break now. "The suns will soon heat everything back to its scorching levels. We should take some water now, so that when the heat does hit us, we are hydrated." Rift removed the cloth from his face and took out one of his canteens. He twisted off the cap and then took 2 small sips. A small drop rolled down his mouth and soaked into his beard. He wiped his mouth and looked back over the group. "Be sure not to drink very much, you don't want to make a habit of drowning yourself in resources."

The break lasted a good 3 minutes before he ended it. "Everyone good to move?" Without waiting for a response, he turned towards the small sun that was still peeking over the horizon. "Good, cause we're moving now." And with that, he started to head towards the light orange horizon.



The suns were baking the whole planet, and the only two who were mostly unaffected, was Davern and Edar. The rest of the poor souls had to deal with the heat.

That feeling had not left Rift, Koda, or Shikle. In fact, it was growing stronger. It was a feeling that felt like their guts were being ripped up. It was truly a horrible feeling, and it was slowly starting to spread to the others.

Everything became unusually quiet, even for a desert. The sand itself seemed to stop shifting. Rift and Davern were in the middle of an argument where Davern was defending Mandalorians, which was the only thing that could be heard for miles. As the two walked up a particularly large dune, two blaster rifles were in their face. Tusken Raiders.

Rift immediately grabbed the barrel of the gun that was in his face while smacking it out of his face, making it fire at the sand. Rift pulled the rifle back and then thrust the butt of the rifle into the Tusken's chin. He pulled the gun from the stunned Tusken and turned the gun on it, shooting it straight in the head.

The two Tuskens had not been alone, as from the side flanks they started pouring in. Chaos ensued. For a while, there seemed to be an endless wave of them. You kill one, two more came in to replace him.

Rift shot a few more Tuskens before dropping the blaster and pulling out Adenn. He was still tied to Zekk, and stayed back with him to help him while he was blind. His eyesight was returning, but all he could make out were the shapes of people.

Two of the five other survivors from the crash were slaughtered, and once that wave of Tuskens were defeated, a new wave lined up in front of the group, across the top of the dunes. The leader of the war party raised his gun and Gaffi Stick above his head, letting out the infamous war cry of the Tusken Raiders.

The group prepared for the wave, ready to take as many of them down as they possibly could. But before the Tusken finished his cry, a loud blast was heard followed by a quick beam of light that went straight through the Tusken's head. Their leader fell and slid down the dune, which had them all looking at each other in confusion. Another bang went off, but this time it was much louder, and the sky above the group was completely illuminated with red energy. All of the Tuskens in the front followed the lead of their leader, sliding down the dunes to the group's feet. The Tuskens that were in the back rows tried to retreat, but where gunned down almost instantaneously.

Rift looked over to the rest of the group. He was hoping that these blasts came from friendlies, but in the dune sea, there are no friendlies. That dark feeling was encroaching on everybody now.

He looked to the right, and noticed that the dunes made a trench-like sand path that led to a canyon in the distance. They would have to be fast if they wanted to reach it before the assailants reached them. "Head for the canyon! Use the dunes as cover, now move your asses!"

He yanked on the clothing robe that was still tied to Zekk's waist. "Just stay with me!"

He dashed for the canyon, moving as fast as he could. The feeling that the assailants were gaining was strong, and only made him move faster. If Zekk fell, or became too slow, Rift was prepared to cut the rope and leave him to his fate. He was not going to die out here.

As the canyon became closer, it seemed to become a lot bigger as well. The canyon was very narrow in its opening, but the canyon itself was huge. The passage led in pretty deep before coming to a T intersection. The problem, of course, was getting there first, and that, was unnecessary for their survival.

Davern was one of the first to smash into the Tusken Raider's lines, throwing himself forward with his thruster packs, both blades drawn. The first Raider he killed was with a rather brutal attack, he impaled it, to stop himself after the thruster jump. The creature yowled in pain and other's soon converged on Davern, he was backing toward the group as he fought them off, parrying blows with one blade, and attacking with the other.

Soon it was all out combat, Rift was fighting blade to gaffi with the marauders as Davern did, the battle dragging on for a good twenty minutes, during the later stretch of the battle Davern was fighting what was obviously an Enforcer of the Tribe. The fight was lasting longer than Davern would like. He finally lost his patience, and out of pure rage and angry toward the assailing beast-man. He brought both of his blades downward with such ferocity they cut right through the blocking gaffi stick. Slicing two massive gashes down the chest of his opponent, downing the enemy with ease.

Something interrupted the battle, a massive red flash filled the sky along with a thunderous cackle of blaster fire. The Tusken Raiders were obviously scared shitless, and broke ranks, fleeing with yells and shouts. Davern looked around and growled, unable to find his opponents. Rift bolted toward a canyon, obviously taking charge of a retreat. So much blaster fire into the sky at once indicated that they were up against a large force, it was a tactic Mandalorians used to scare and startle foes.

Davern had no time to dwell on it, he waited for the rest of the group to get into the Canyon before following after. His heavy running and the prolonged dash. It was a good sprint down the straight-away before he arrived at the T-intersection. Davern turned around to see very blurred figures coming at them in the distance. He growled and raised his blasters, firing down the canyon blindly to provide cover for the group. The plan hardly worked, so Davern picked another idea, placing his blasters back in their holsters he raised his grenade launcher and loaded a thermal det grenade. With a loud boom from the weapon in his arm it launched down the canyon, impacting on the wall and collapsing right in the way of the charging force. "Hurry! Pick a path! That'll only stop them for so long!" He voice boomed and echoed as he spoke.

Whatever the hell they were going to do, it needed done fast. He didn't like this... The postion they were in would be horrid if they got caught in a fire fight. And he'd rather avoid having blaster blots burrow into his armor today.

"Gar lahm par ibic hibir, gar aalar pel," ( Are you ready pup, you seem soft)

Soft?! Ati bristled, setting her shoulders at the taller Mando with an invisible glare of challenge. Calling someone 'soft' was a good way to get in a quick fight on Mandalore. In a few years, with thicker skin and a more mature head, Ati may have brushed off the remark. But on her first round of galactic travel and with a mind to prove herself, the words stung her pride.

She may even have answered him in kind, regardless of her broken arm, if it weren't for the clipped electronic voice of the droid saying something that demanded an even more immediate portion of her attention.

"Statement: Well that's annoying..... I seam to be having an error. Clarification: All comms signal in this region has gone dead, rendering all guidance systems inoperable."

The female regarded 'Smiley' flatly for a long moment, "That could be a problem, droid. Does your master have enemies that could've followed you out here?"

As soon as the words are out, she considered a second, more likely, and less appealing scenario.

"Haar'chak." She growls the curse, "I only thought my headset was damaged in the crash. It's all too neat, isn't it? The ship suffers a power failure when there was no trouble anywhere else on the flight, bringing us down into an area that is now being jammed... I don't like what that means. Someone either anticipated survivors, or only just realized there -are- survivors, and we're being watched. Either way, they don't want us calling for help."

It sounded paranoid to her own ears, but it made too much sense; fitting the pieces of their circumstances together into a more complete whole.

"Take it off her shoulders, I can fight and haul this with ease, she on the other hand, she is still far to young for such impressive strength or finesse."

"Yeah, your not compensating for anything. No, I can go fine on my own. Unless you need to be guarded by the big, strong chick......"

The Trandoshan saves her from outright challenging Davern, and finally she shrugs her half of the harness off of her shoulder, allowing Zekk to do just as he said he'd do. His size really did make him the best suited to pull the tank, and she was mildly impressed that he'd volunteered to do it. Trandoshans usually weren't that level-headed when it came to demeaning themselves in front of 'lesser' mammalian species.

----

The night was bitterly cold, and the desert stretched forever in any direction they cared to look. Ati's Beskar'gam protected her better than those with any skin exposed to the biting sand, and most of her visor's visual components still functioned despite the minute cracks that'd starred the transparasteel. Because of that, she was usually the first to climb the next dune, watching for threats ahead of them on their trek across the dunes.

It hadn't left her mind that their circumstances might be fitting all too neatly into someone else's plan for them, and she didn't like being played from afar. So she kept her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself, even when Zekk lost his footing and sent the sled screaming down the slope of a dune, nearly colliding with several of the others.

The argument broke up quickly enough, and they didn't loose too much time, but eventually the wind and cold became too much, and in the relative shelter of a dune's valley, they all huddled around the tank for what shelter they could find. Ati declined the scraps that Rift handed around; it wouldn't add anything that her armor didn't already provide.

The next day was Hell. While her sealed armor had been fantastic in the night, during the day her lack of an environmental suite left her cooking right along with the rest of them. To remove her helmet would just expose her head to the sun, so she grunted and cursed and suffered in relative silence while the heat rolled off of the iron plates with enough heat to scorch, should she have been stupid enough to touch them with naked flesh.

She was going to smell -fantastic- after all of this, and made a mental note several times over to spend her next set of credits on any kind of in-armor atmosphere uprgrade.

And then Hell gets... Hell-ier? Ati had stayed back as Rift and Davern had gone up the next dune, arguing like children. The Deathwatch grated on her nerves at every turn, and she was itching for her arm to mend. Stars willing, she could find a medical droid in whatever settlement they hit first. Then she and that old man were going to have a prolonged talk.

But there are shouts, and blasterfire. Tusken. They must've come upon the wreck and seen their tracks. Her pistol wouldn't cut it. Reaching back, the rifle is heavy in her one-handed grip, and she steadies it against her hip. The assault weapon snaps, and heavy red bolts drill into the waves of roaring, savage scavengers.

The numbers press ever-closer, despite the casualties they absorb. A Raider falls to her shots, only to have its comrade leap over the body, too close to shoot again. Its Gaffi stick comes down hard onto her gun arm, but skips loudly, harmlessly, across the gray Mandalorian Iron. His momentum dedicated forward, Ati meets his wrapped forehead with the crown of her helmet, and the crack is even louder. The Tusken joins its fellows in the dirt.

With a screech, the assault is halted by whatever threat had spooked the Tusken Raiders sent crimson energy staining the sky.

"...I have a bad feeling about this."

And then they're all running, choosing to take their chances in the canyon rather than find out what was slaughtering the Tusken. As she clears her boots from desert dunes to hard-packed grit, Ati briefly regrets that she doesn't have the time to enjoy the few degrees difference in the shade. The twin paths look identical.

"Split up and double our chances to get away, or stay together and keep our firepower concentrated?"

Time was running out to decide, and Ati is already taking a few steps towards the left-hand path.

Koda'Rai was about to join in pulling the sled, but a more optimal solutions appeared. His strength was nowhere near that of those pulling the sled, and as such he knew any attempt to help would get in the way. The marching in the sand was absolutely miserable, the heat draining him of water far faster than he was comfortable with and the cracks in his tail only getting worse. The widened cracks only exposed more of his skin, making him even more uncomfortable in the sun. Beyond all doubt, he was currently the weakest member of the little improvised party. But he wasn't about to let that show, after all the last thing needed was another burden.

His senses and reactions still dull in the heat, by the time the Raiders are upon them he's barely capable of telling exactly what was going on. Eventually, he caught on and began attempting to escape with the others. But he realized that leaving the water sled was even less and option for him than everyone else. With that he began pushing against the back of the sled, hunched over to actually push the sled instead of the tank.

"This one would like to inquire about the plan,"he voiced through his translator. He'd been forced into hold his Stun Stick with his tail again to aid the sled. But should the sled need to be defended then he'd have no choice but to stick behind. With his shell compromised, he was simply losing water too easily to hope for survival otherwise.

At what point does unlikely turn to ridiculous? This was the question Zekk ran through his head about a thousand times as he trekked through the sands with his new band of cohorts. How many times had he been lost on this god forsaken rock? It seamed like out of all the planets he'd ever set foot on, this one held dibs on claiming his life. The big reptile strained on his muscles, making large wakes in the sand from the water tank. Cramps ran up and down his legs, the carbonite sickness still wasn't out of his body yet, but the burn made him feel more active. Believe it or not, he was grateful for it. More so when the suns began to set. The winds picked up heavily, blowing sand into his useless eyes. Many Trandoshans had evolved on Tatooine with a secondary pair of eyelids just for sand storms. Zekk was not one of them. It was about half an hour before it dawned upon him that if he was blind, why did he need to leave them uncovered? Accepting a piece of torn rags from Rift, Zekk fashioned a sort or turban. Which, of course, was cleverly disguised as a rag wrapped loosely around his head by a blind idiot.

The sands on Tatooine were truly an absolute horror. It was rough, yet fine. When the winds carried it thick in the air, it gnawed and chewed away at you like the planet itself was trying to consume you one layer of skin at a time. It held heat better than any man-made alloy, it could clog your lungs in a few short seconds, it reflected light better than a damn mirror, and worst of all? There was waves of the shit! Endless seas of that god awful yellow-ish dust. And climbing it was a joke and a half, more so with the added weight from the damn tanker. Zekk pulled, tugged, and clawed his way up each dune. Treading the sand was worse than trying to climb solid ice. Out of habit and instinct, the tiny little barbed scales on the palms of Zekks hands would rise, trying to adhere to a usable surface, only to take in a huge handful of sand, which would get stuck under those little scales. It itched, burned, and was just generally irritating.

Worst of all was the hunger. Zekk's genetic lineage was part Barabel, and as such he could sustain himself for weeks with only food. His body storing and slowly burning it in a second stomach, allowing him to maintain his peak condition even in ass-biting cold. Usually this made surviving on harsh planets like Tatooine rather easy, seeing as food was much more plentiful than water.



Crossing over the apex of a dune, someone forgot to throw a heads-up to Zekk. Before he had time to react, he was sliding face-first down the dune with the tank chasing after him. He nearly plowed over everyone just on his own, rolling on his back in time for his feet to stop the tumbling tanker. On the bright side, no one got seriously hurt and the tank was saved by Zekk's leg muscles. However, one of his toes was painfully bent inwards by the sudden impact, popping it out of place. Not debilitating, but damn it stung.



Several hours of nonstop bitching and complaining later,the suns fell. Zekk may have been blind, but the immediate drop in temperature was impossible to miss. Suddenly, he was even more grateful for the burning of his muscles, as it was his only source of heat in his body. It'd been a long time since he ate anything, meaning his reserve supplies of food and fat to burn were out. Actually, thinking about the whole carbonite ordeal, it was likely a really long time since he ate. The chills began to sting deep into his body, making it hard to move. It was like trying to walk in a tar pit, or maybe more like standing on totally numb legs. While he was happy that he wasn't truly cold blooded, it made no difference. The natural amount of body heat he produced was little over half of what a human held, which meant freezing to death was very possible. This is why Zekk was the first to argue with the plan to stop for the night. But regardless, they did. Sleep for him was impossible. He could go another fourteen or so hours without sleep, which meant that he was basically sitting on his frozen ass the whole time. Tensing his muscles, gritting his teeth, even at one point popping his toe back out of socket, Zekk did everything he could to ignore the cold. This was possibly the second longest night ever.

Finally, there was a little pinch of warmth, which gradually began circulating around him. Dawn was breaking at last, and he truly wished he could have laid eyes on those two beautiful suns. He may have shed a tear, if it weren't the likelihood of someone seeing him cry. No, at the very least, Zekk was going to maintain his appearance of toughness. He gave up on dignity a looooooong time ago. Finally, Rift gave the word to mush, and Zekk had never been so happy to play the part of work-horse. The movement at least took his mind off the freezing cold, which itself was gradually fading away like a bad dream. By far, he was the happiest damn person on Tatooine about being slowly fried by those two orbs of fire in the sky. But of course, the sun is never the only danger in this hell hole. The long, drawn-out barks and howls were unmistakable. Tuskens. Of course. And with his damned head wrapped, Zekk couldn't see a bloody thing. All he could do was swing out at the crunching of sand or the war cries of these desert dumbasses. Though there was one thing that let Zekk tell friend from foe, as he finally landed his hands on something. With a single sniff, he confirmed it's identity. Thankfully, Tuskens never bathe and often have a stink that could knock a hawk-bat off a gut wagon. Zekk's grip on this bastard tightened as he hoisted it's body above his head, bringing it down across his knee. The loud snap of the Tuskens spine brought back a good deal of memories.

IG, who had played little more than sentry guard up until now, was knee deep in the Tusekn's horde. Blaster in one hand, vibro-sword in the other, and it's foot crushing something's skull, it was truly joyous.



The Magna Guard spun, slashed, twirled, hacked, and shot away, often leaping from one group of attackers into the heart of another. Three more shots rang out, each tearing a Tusken head from it's shoulders. It's blade spun in it's rotating wrist, creating an impassable death-fan which claimed the limbs of multiple raiders. All of it's receptors where keeping track of it's target, Koda'Rai, and the droid's grappling hook would drag away any meatbag that even looked in his direction. Often, the hook would usually pierce into the Tusken's throat, making further mutilation via the droid's sword completely unnecessary. Logic be damned, IG did it anyway. Liberating a Gaffi stick (arm still attached) from one of the raiders, IG found a true love for the brutal bludgeoning and cracking of craniums with blunt weapons. So much so, the droid equipped a second gaffi stick and began an onslaught.



Javelin-tossing one of it's acquired gaderffi into the back of another Tusken, IG was now using it's sword and gaffi combo. Impaling, cudgeling, and decapitating any howling idiot who neared the droid. Spinning at the waste with arm's outstretched, it charged into the next wave of bantha-fodder, trying it's hand at theology as it executed each of them.



The droid stood proudly atop a pile of slaughtered Sand People, it's robes shot to ribbons and stained with blood. A sight to behold, indeed, until a blaster bolt finally found it's mark, shooting out the receptor on the droid's left elbow. Feeling this as an insult to it's display of unrivaled killing capacity, IG-136 turned to slaughter yet another batch, only to be taken aback by the wave of suppression fire that was rained unto their position. The droid's self-preservation kicked into full effect, only stopping to take note of it's target, Koda'Rai. It saw him shoving the tanker.



Not waiting for a response, the droid simply lifted the strange alien and dexterously bolted for the safety of the canyons.

After bear-hugging two more Sand People in half and taking a Gaderffii to the back, Zekk was getting annoyed. Finally, after he tore the assailant's arm off with his teeth, the Tuskens were sounding the retreat. Which was slightly muted by the sound of all Hell breaking loose. One of the fleeing nomads tore the rags from Zekk's face, revealing that he'd regained a fair portion of his sight back. Everything was still blurry, but he could vary well perceive the volley of heavy blaster fire threatening to obliterate him. Rift gave the plan for retreat, pointing to the nearby cover of the canyons. With most of his momentum lost, Zekk struggled to gain traction. Though a tiny ray of fortune shined on him for once, as his foot made contact with a sheet of stone. Rift was shouting that he'd cut Zekk free of the tank, but Zekk responded with a devilish grin.



With that, Zekk gripped onto the straps of the tanker with one hand, and the bt of cloth tied to Rift with the other. The large lizard lurched forward, his feet gripping the surface of the stone and giving him the power he long needed. With staggering strength and massive strides, Zekk barreled down the path after Rift, the sled sparking as it skipped over the rocks and stone of the canyon floor. Sliding to a stop, the group made a choice of which path to take.



Scanning through it's own memories, IG determined the direction which said lizard was indicating.



Fumbling around with some of his equipment, Zekk pulled out one of his anti-personnel land mines, one of only three he had left. They were small and easy to hide, but were effective at sending super-heated flak everywhere. Or it would, had the carbonite not fried it's priming sequencer, which Zekk figured out after trying to arm it. Actually, he figured it out after banging it off the wall of the canyon once or twice. Though an idea did strike him. While Zekk was not exactly what you'd call smart, he had his clever moments. The landmine didn't need to work if someone thought it worked. Undoing himself from the tank, he whistled to the two Mandalorians from earlier.



Zekk soon scurried over to a pile of loose dust and rocks, and covered the landmine entirely save for one bit. He made sure it was just enough for the sun to glean off of it, but that it still looked like it was purposely hidden. He placed the remaining two in similar fashions, but didn't stop there. He made little piles of dirt and loose rocks all the way down the path leading to the intersection, before darting off after the others. Hopefully the fear of walking through a non-existent minefield would slow down whatever the hell was following them.