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.
Oh how irony loves to rear it's ugly little head in the worst of ways..... Starving to death while dragging a tank of water. And dad said the Force didn't have a sense of humor.
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.
"You know...... I recall mentioning something about this...... Like, basically asking for a warning for this particular scenario....... Almost exactly..... Thanks for the early warning, guys....."
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.
Combat Data:
Ammunition: 22
Meatbag Kills: 7
Unacceptable
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.
Combat Data:
Ammunition: 17
Meatbag Kills: 19
It Is A Good Day
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.
Combat Data:
Ammunition: 17
Meatbag Kills: 23
"Musings: Kill one Meatbag, and you are a murderer....."
Combat Data:
Ammunition: 17
Meatbag Kills: 27
"Kill a million Meatbags, and you are a conqueror....."
Combat Data:
Ammunition: 17
Meatbag Kills: 34
"Kill them all....."
Combat Data:
Ammunition: 17
Meatbag Kills: 36
"And you are a God."
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.
"Query: Master, you are aware of the armada seeking our extermination, correct?"
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.
"Nah, I got this! Just move your ass, Squishy!"
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.
"You gotta follow the small sun! If you don't, you'll be lost out here for good."
Scanning through it's own memories, IG determined the direction which said lizard was indicating.
"Statement: That would indicate we take this path. Clarification: The reliability of reptilian Meatbag's directions are questionable...."
"What'd you call me, slag-heap?"
"Hurry! Pick a path! That'll only stop them for so long!"
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.
"Hey! You two wanted to haul this heavy-ass thing so bad? Wish Granted! I'll catch up in a bit, I got a plan!"
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.
RPG
