Siseren-He Who Fights Boldly
Ren'kirsa-Support/Guide to the Bold
Sela'linn-Pride of her Leader
Dosh:
*Hatcherd-Hello
"Ren'kirsa! Hatcherd*!" A pretty female Trandoshan called out in passing to a slight, though muscular, male Trandoshan.
The male might have blushed, seeing the clan leader's daughter, Sela'linn, call him out by name, but of course a reptile cannot blush. All the same, the dark-skinned Trandoshan ducked his chin, the edges of his fanged mouth tilting up in a light smile. "Hatcherd, Sela'linn. How goes the Hunt?"
The light-skinned female turned as she had passed him, to keep him in her eyesight. "It goes well! Have a good day! May the Scorekeeper find favour with your work!"
"And yours as well!" Ren'kirsa responded, watching Sela'linn turn back around and pick her pace up into a quick jog down the rutted street. The male Trandoshan noted she did not greet any others along her way.
With a little more spring in his step, Ren' turned his focus back on where he was going and slipped into an open shop a few more paces down the street. The bitter smell of black oil, the acrid scent of welded metal, and the freshness of sooty smoke from the previous day's wood all assaulted the reptile's sensitive nose. Ren' took a deep breath and his smile widened. He loved the smell of his workshop.
The dim space was small, but open, with plenty of foot-space, despite the various tables all around holding bits of metal, wiring, wood-work, and most importantly guns. Various makes, models, and years of guns were stacked haphazardly throughout the shop, all in varying degrees of completion and modification. There were small electric lights placed close together, enough to light the small space well enough to see even on a dark day. In the far back and centre of the workshop was a fire pit, inside piles of compacted ash from countless fires, the soot having collected on the roof overhead and the insides of the rocks piled high and close, interlocking together to form the impenetrable forge. Close-by an anvil and hammer set lay neatly stacked, along with what seemed to be some kind of soldering/welding adapter.
The sound of heavy footfalls could clearly be picked out even as Ren' stacked wood in the centre of the fire pit in the small shack that was his repair store. The thin male didn't turn away from his work as the footfalls came up directly behind him and the owner of the footfalls turned to peer over the shorter Trandoshan's shoulder.
"Good morning, Siseren," Ren' greeted warmly, now striking a match to start the fire, holding it close and attentively waiting for the paper within the mass of freshly stacked sturdy sticks of hardwood to light.
"What's the schedule for today?" Siseren asked with a tilt of his head. He backed away as Ren'kirsa turned around from the now crackling fire to flick on the lights within the workshop before Ren'kirsa turned to look at his younger brother. The shorter Trandoshan didn't have time to respond to Siseren, however, as someone suddenly burst breathlessly into the store.
"A huge ship just landed outside of the village! Some kind of carrier! There are droids spilling out!" The messenger explained quickly.
"What?!" The brothers exclaimed in unison. They exchanged a glance before turning to snatch a pair of (working) guns from a shelf and sprinted out into the street where other Trandoshan's were emerging from houses, all sufficiently armed to repel whatever these invaders thought was sufficient force to take the small town.
From where Ren'kirsa's shop sat on the street, it was clear to see the large C-9979 drop-ship had landed approximately a klik or so from the village and was deploying various battle tanks and droids, all of them forming up into groups and beginning the short march to the town.
By this time, there was a fairly large crowd of Trandoshans having moved to the edge of town, all weapons ready, rifles held close, several vibro-blades held expertly at the ready, or flipped backwards, waiting for some command to be given to attack. Ren' and his brother were closer towards the centre of the group, spreading out to form a barrier against the fast approaching droids.
One tank that had been following the first group of battle droids now moved forward towards the villagers while the droids slowed their pace. There was the ominous sound of 50 safeties all being switched off at the exact same time and several of the younger, less confident Trandoshans anxiously switched off the safeties of their own weapons and half raised them before the older ones clamped a hand down on the barrel to push it back down. They were not willing to make a confrontation, yet.
The top hatch of the tank chose at that time to pop open, the hinges protesting with a fairly obnoxious squeal. A very FAT, very unpleasant-looking Neimoidian managed to somehow squeeze his massive girth out that tiny hole onto the top of the tank to stare down at the many dozen reptilian humanoids glaring back.
"I am General Durd of the Separatist Alliance." He spoke with a deep, slightly accented voice that made him sound ever so annoying. "Rejoice, for you are now under our protection. I congratulate you on your good fortune..."
It was a pretty good thing another Trandoshan chose at that moment to climb up out from the open hatch of the tank, or Durd probably would have found himself with a new hole in his face to talk out of. The Trandoshan was thin and a little wiry, much like Ren'kirsa, wearing a muted yellow flight suit and carrying a particular Trandoshan rifle over his shoulder. Bossk was easily identified by everyone there. Ripples of surprise and confusion spread throughout the group of individuals there.
Bossk wasted little time with introductions. "Durd has come to choose a few of you lucky lizardsto become high-ranking officers of the Separatist Military. Be proud. The Scorekeeper will show you great favor at the chances of hunting you will get to do..."
More ripples of surprise, and fractious discontent.
The bounty hunter then turned to point out a few specific hunters within the group of gathered Trandoshans. "You, you, and you all are coming with us."
Battle droids stepped forward, producing cuffs.
"And you..." Bossk was pointing right at Ren'kirsa.
Bossk may have been Trandoshan, but that didn't mean he had political power with anyone. The light-skinned male hardly even returned home to participate in politics. If he expected them to blatantly obey him, he had another thing coming to him, especially threatening the livelihood of the town by attempting to take a few of their best hunters and their only gunsmith/blacksmith/wood worker/engineer/etc.
"No!" The protest was exclaimed by Siseren and Sela'linn in perfect synchronicity (and subsequently echoed by several others in the crowd). Siseren stepped forward, placing himself between the few approaching droids and his older brother. "No, you can't come here and tell uswhat to do!"
Bossk set his jaw at an angle, obviously irate with the villagers, seeing their resistance. Other Trandoshans were closing around the chosen few, weapons being held a little closer, as though they all expected a fight to break out over this confrontation. The hunter decided these people needed to be shown resistance was futile and to accept the changes with celebration instead of resistance.
With a sudden growl, the hunter launched himself at the nearest target, jumping right over top the taller, more muscular Trandoshan who had bravely put himself before what appeared to be his younger, smaller brother, and landed square on Ren'kirsa's shoulders. Both went crashing to the ground as Ren' felt his knees pop painfully. Before further action could be made against Bossk for his abrupt attack, the bounty hunter was up again, holding the slight, dark-skinned male in a lock with one arm wrapped tightly around Ren's wind pipe. Bossk held in his other hand a knife, the tip of the blade pressed against the exposed scaly skin under the jaw. The gunsmith parted his jaws as much as was possible and let out a long, dry hiss of one extremely annoyed.
Bossk let out a clipped laugh, and grinned, even after seeing the various weapons turned to be trained as much on him as possible with the meat-shield that was Ren'kirsa currently being held tightly against the enemy Trandoshan's chest. The hunter watched as the gunsmith's brother stepped forward, his gun braced tightly against his shoulder, forcing Bossk to stare down it's short barrel. "You can't possibly risk his life by attempting to shoot me. Is he a family member? Younger brother, perhaps? Hah!"
"Older, actually..." Ren'kirsa hissed breathlessly. His vision swam with so little air getting to his lungs and from there to the rest of his body and brain.
"That explains, then, why you aren't dead," Bossk mused, now shifting his stance to better lift Ren' up and took a step towards Siseren and, beyond, the Separatist military.
Ren' understood that, when Bossk said what he did, he was blatantly throwing it in his face that Siseren was obviously taller and more powerful than he. The hunter was trying to make the gunsmith angry, to loose focus, or to become ashamed, and loose the will to resist. Ren' was neither ashamed of his slighter build, nor enraged beyond throught, instead seeing the words for what they were, bait. The dark-skinned Trandoshan pulled more than his own weight within the village, despite being one of the weaker males. His smith work made up for his physical size (and then some). And because Ren' worked with his hands, using brute force on a lot of the things he did, it made him exceedingly strong. Bossk probably didn't even realize the situation he'd gotten himself into by bringing his body so close to such a strong male.
Ren's hands came up, one to grab Bossk's elbow currently pressing into his trachea, the other hand coming up to grab at the knife. The hunter hissed in surprise, eyes narrowing with focus as he applied more pressure to the throat, and tried to keep the blade up against Ren's chin. Bossk found, however, he was at a disadvantage as his 'prisoner' stepped to the side, crouching a little and bringing his left leg up behind Bossk's right leg, forcing the light-skinned Trandoshan to bend backwards to keep his choke hold. Siseren took that moment to jump in to help his brother out, grabbing hold of Bossk's hand which held the knife. Ren' was left with both hands to work with and he tried to twist out of the enemy Trandoshan's grip.
With a feral growl, Bossk suddenly snapped his arm around towards Siseren and drove the knife into the younger brother's shoulder, forcing one attacker away. Ren' who'd paused his efforts to tilt his head to the side to wiggle out of the choke hold when he had heard his brother's choked out hiss of pain as he drew back, hadn't the time to duck with Bossk's fist came around, knife still in hand, to slam heavily into his snout. Ren' tried to throw his head back, but was still stuck in the head-lock. The dark-skinned Trandoshan's moment of shock and pain was enough to allow Bossk to take a more dominant, secure hold on Ren' again and pressing the point of the blade against his back, the knife actually firm enough to draw a bit of blood and an uncomfortable hiss from Bossk's captive.
"Leave him alone!" A heavy, growled out protest came from the crowd and an older, light-skinned male pushed past a few of the other villagers. It was the leader of the clan, Sela'linn's father, a mighty hunter in his day, and still one of the strongest males there, despite his age. The clan leader strode towards Bossk sternly, hissing in fury, but Bossk pressed the point of the knife in a little more firmly into Ren's back, eliciting another low, pained hiss from the captive.
"And who, may I ask, are you?" Lok Durd chose at that moment to speak from his high pedestal on the top of the tank.
"Kiran, the leader of this clan. What is a Separatist general doing on Trandosha? Especially using another Trandoshan to threaten one of it's towns?!" The aging Trandoshan growled out at the obese Neomodian.
"He's trying to kidnap Attratrack, Druken'kev, Borjaa, and Ren'kirsa!" Siseren spat out as he pushed himself to his feet, holding his shoulder where trails of green blood could be seen seeping between the large Trandoshan's three fingers.
Ren' tried to use Kiran's brief discussion to manage another escape attempt, but Bossk was not to be distracted twice. He applied more pressure to the captured Trandoshan's wind-pipe, effectively cutting off his oxygen and turning him around, forcing them back towards the Separatists.
"NO!" Siseren again snarled, darting back towards Bossk and Ren', but another quick jab of the knife, and another hiss from the dark-skinned Trandoshan halted the taller brother's progress. Similar screams of anger and denial were echoed through the crowd as various loved ones were approached by the droids and surprise-cuffed to be taken back into the Separatist ranks.
"R-sis-t!" Ren forced out through his mostly closed wind-pipe, eyes swimming from lack of oxygen, his vision popping with black and white spots. With the last bit of energy he had in his body, feeling his limbs go cold and a little tingly the captured Trandoshan jerked in Bossk's grip, arms flailing, trying to lean back and kick Bossk in the groin, step on his foot, something to get him to loosen his hold! Similar struggles were going on around him, and suddenly shots were ringing out from other Trandoshans who had lifted their guns and were now plunking off shots at the battle droids. There was a loud BOOM! and fire sprang up in the corner of Ren's vision. The tank had just fired on the town! The rest of the Trandoshan townspeople were attacking, now, and still Bossk was dragging him away, back into the ranks of the droid army.
"Ren'!" His brother's voice was barely distinguishable in the mass of noise and chaotic, blurry colours.
"S-ren..." Was the last thing Ren' could murmur, blinking hard to see his brother, now crouched against the backdrop of a formerly intact store-front which was now partly on fire and partly serving as a barricade against incoming blaster fire. The tall, muscular Trandoshan was wide-eyed, reaching out towards his older brother as though he could stop Bossk. Without thinking, Siseren jumped the make-shift barricade and sprinted after the enemy Trandoshan holding his brother, towards the mass of droids. Sela'linn, whom Ren' could barely identify, took off after Sisren.
It is the most horrible thing to watch the people you love die. It does things to your mind that very few things can do. So when the last thing Ren' saw was, in slow motion, The building just behind his brother and his friend explode into little bits of shrapnel and fire... seeing Sisren's foot strike the ground and them his body collapse to the dirt before being blasted forward, body tumbling like a rag doll, trailing blood from a series of terrible wounds in his back, pieces of wood and metal making him look like a pincushion. Sela'linn's neck was twisted at an awkward angle, eyes staring off into nothing, blood slowly trailing from her mouth... Ren'kirsa tried to open his mouth to scream, but he had no breath, and he faded into blackness...
5-5-5
Those dreams never went away. Ravage would close his eyes at night sometimes, and see his brother clear as day bleeding out there, with Sela'linn lying there beside him, body broken and tattered. It had been shortly after that, that Ravage had woken in the brig of that Separatist C-9979 drop-ship, and not long later when the ship fell under attack from a random Venator-class star destroyer, the Guardian. The drop-ship was quickly torn to pieces before it could return to it's dock in the Providence-class Separatist dreadnought orbiting the planet. The dreadnought shortly fled. Ravage never did find out what happened to Bossk, but apparently he survived, probably by remaining planet-side with a small amount of droids. A patrol of ships had gone to investigate what was left of the destroyed drop-ship, and somehow found his body drifting in the wreckage.
Trandoshans have an incredible ability to regrow limbs, but that doesn't do one any bit of good if half your insides are gone, limbs mangled, and skull fractured. Yet somehow, Ren'kirsa remained alive long enough to be taken back to the star ship and placed in bacta. The decision to salvage what was left and stick it in a fragmented body of droid parts and scrap metal from on board the medical station he was then taken to had been made without the Trandoshan's consent, but after the initial shock and grievous mourning upon awakening once more... the thrashing, the instability of it all... well, he supposed he could only thank a certain healer for being there when he needed someone to keep him from killing himself and getting it all over and done with so he could stop feeling. And when solid, rationalized thought returned... some spark of life returned as well. It would be a long healing process, one that would take many months, but eventually Ren'kirsa would become the cyborg Ravage that was made to destroy the Supreme Commander of the Separatist droid army.