Apocalypse Now events in 1969
George Lucas had his ideas for Star Wars and started writing in 1973
What about a mixup of these two? Bringing in modern The Old Republic stories.
Apocalypse Now characters
Benjamin Willard - special forces, (worked intelligence, counter-intel for US Central Intelligence Agency)
Navy Patrol Boat, riverine (PBR)
Chief - commander of the boat
Lance - crewman
Chef - crewman
Mr. Clean - crewman
Cavalry Squadron
Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore
Cambodia
Walter Kurtz - insane guy leading a cult of locals in Cambodia
Captain Colby (joined Kurtz)
SWTOR characters
The Shadow - female Jedi Shadow who just passed act one of the Jedi Consular storyline
The Shadow exclusively relies on Qyzen Fess for backup. Qyzen Fess is a Transdoshan who follows the Scorekeeper and tries to earn points.
Yoda #1, #2, #3 - in game disguises of SWTOR admins who take Willard when they can't identify his class, level or equipment.
Williard as Smuggler or Trooper?
Smugglers have a closer weapon style, but Williard has been special forces before but never interested in money for its own stake, so he chooses trooper reluctantly, not liking or aware of the advantages of armor.
Ord Mantell
Havoc Squad
Gearbox - technician
ZR-57 Orbital Strike Bomb
Fort Garnik - Local Republic base in Ord Mantell
Commander Harron Tavus - Havoc Squad Commander
Needles - Cyborg medical expert of Havoc Squad
Lieutenant Aric Jorgan - Cathar Lieutenant (ranged firepower)
Fuse - Zabrak explosives export of Havoc Squad
Initial mission : destroy the handheld weapons caches.
Ord Mantell mission : secure the ZR-57.
Consular background info
Chapter 1: Wake up Shadow
Tamaraigh had cured Parkanas of his afflictions, but still couldn't get out of her mind how much damage he had done to the order by turning all those jedi with the disease.
Meditating, she continued to relax, and let her emotions about the battle and confrontation with Parkanas fade away. Her saberstaff was secured firmly, and turned off. Her brown robe was newly cleaned after taking on the dust of a dozen worlds, as she was granted the rare honorific Barsen'thor for her efforts in curing the afflicted jedi and finding the source of the disease.
She had to report to the council in two hours, there was another mission already, a diplomatic mission. It would be nice to settle into more of a consular's role for a while. She had been battle tested, relying on her saberstaff and other techniques to fight amid what seemed to be a fracturing galaxy. Every planet she'd been to was embroiled in conflict at one level or another. Gang wars, civil wars and the overall conflict between the Republic and Sith Empire made even diplomatic efforts a reconnaissance in force.
Her silence was broken with the characteristic sound of an incoming urgent message. She stood up, and walked over to the holoterminal.
It wasn't the council or another master on the other end, but someone she didn't recognize.
"Master Jedi, this is the Coruscant Port Master", the man started. She winced, and hated how those not in the order seemed to call all of their number masters. She was no master, not yet. "We are detecting extreme energy readings from your ship. Please explain yourself!"
The ship was in standby mode, not even running at full power. "The main engine isn't even running, I will verify that none of my passengers are responsible in these energy readings."
"I will reconnect with you in twenty minutes then. Port Master out."
The man was pretty young to be a port master, but then, with so many involved in the republic military effort, perhaps he was the best left to fill that role.
She hit the internal comms, "Ship meeting. Please meet me at the holoterminal immediately."
It was only Qyzen Fess, Tharan Cedrax and C2-N2 onboard. She admitted to being biased and preferred to fight with Fess by her side. Cedrax's attitude and approach to life didn't match what she was looking for in a battle companion. C2-N2 was just a ship droid.
Qyzen Fess was the first to appear. "More points, yes?" he asked.
Tamaraigh smiled at the trandoshan. The others didn't have time to get there as an energy surge surrounded the holo and the two of them, and they were gone. Disappeared from the corvette.
"Where is everyone," Tharan Cedrax asked C2-N2, and "what is that smell!"
Like the smell of a burnt out astromech droid, he concluded.
"Master Tamaraigh is not on this vessel. Qyzen Fess is not on this vessel. Unknown human is on this vessel! In Master's meditation room."
Williard was catching what sleep he could while there was still a chance. In the back of the patrol boat, his rifle resting a few feet away. He had to thank Lance for getting Kilgore to agree to help with the mission. There was some serious shit up ahead, and these PBR boys weren't ready for it. Chief was too full of himself to realize the bigger picture. The mission was way more important than some patrol boat chief.
He opened his eyes for a moment, the air surrounding him seemed to be humming, and turning a greyish blue. What the hell?
The multiversal pulse filled the air onboard that boat, and onboard the republic corvette. Captain Williard was transferred from the back of the boat to the meditation room of the corvette. Tamaraigh and Qyzen Fess were transferred from the holoterminal area of the corvette to the front of the boat. Right in front of the Chief's eyes.
"Holy shit! Someone's on the boat! Get off my God Damn boat!"
He pulls out his pistol, and only then realizes that one of them is not human. "Shit". He shoots the green alien. BLAM BLAM BLAM. The green alien falls backwards into the water. The other, a lady wearing a funny brown robe disappears.
"Williard, Mr. Clean."
"Don't know where Captain Williard is boss. What was that thing?" Lance said.
"Let's fish it out of the water," Chief says.
Lance, Mr. Clean and Chef looked for the green alien but couldn't find him.
"Williard, where the hell are you?"
This was beyond surprising. This was shocking. One moment she was unboard her ship, the next moment Qyzen was shot and killed in two seconds. What kind of high powered guns did these people have. Far louder than a blaster, and way more powerful too. She gone invisible as soon as Qyzen fell backwards into the water. She hadn't been on a boat since her childhood. It was small, but she identified a bigger version of the gun that killed Qyzen Fess as being mounted to the back of this boat. It was a planetary military boat. This was not Coruscant. The occupants of the boat didn't look familiar at all. She had never run into their organization, whatever it was.
She turned visible again, her time running out. She was at the back of the boat, away from the 'enemy', for the moment. They would see her and Qyzen any moment now. "Fess, come back," she whispered, and the Trandoshan appeared out of nowhere. She didn't really doubt it, but it was nice to see respawning worked here as well as anywhere. She wondered where her own respawn point was on this planet.
She didn't sense that the occupants of the boat were hostile, but they did shoot Qyzen with their high powered weapon. They were weak of will however.
The three humans spotted them in the back of the boat.
"You won't hurt us," Tamaraigh said.
"We won't hurt you," the one in charge said.
"We just want to talk," Tamaraigh said.
"You just want to talk."
"Worth no points, are they," Qyzen said.
"Sit down," Tamaraigh told the others. They sat down in front of her and Qyzen.
"I'm Chief, this is Lance, Chef, and Clean." the man in charge said, pointing to the others.
Tamaraigh sat down, and Qyzen followed her lead.
"What planet is this?" she asked.
The chief laughed, "Planet insane."
She wasn't familiar with that one.
"What kind of weapons are those?"
"This is a .45. Chef and Clean have their M14s," Chief said.
"You don't use blasters?" Tamaraigh asked. "And stay calm," she said, making sure none of them freaked out about Qyzen.
"What's a blaster? Who are you?"
"I am Jedi Consular Tamaraigh, and this is my counterpart, Qyzen Fess."
"Can't say I understand any of that, but why here and now. Did you kill Captain Willard. Williard, are you out there?"
"Of course not," Tamaraigh said. "We didn't see anyone other than you three."
"We were taking Williard upriver for some special mission of his. Dumb ass war."
"Fuck this war," Chef said.
Figures, Tamaraigh thought to herself, every planet we go to is in the middle of some war or conflict.
"Can you tell me more about this war. Assume you're telling a youngling, we know nothing of it," Tamaraigh said.
"Not know, how can you not know, you're right in the shitpile."
"Just tell me," she insisted.
"I'll tell her," Lance said. "Everyone back in Washington is afraid the commies are going to take all of Vietnam, and then the rest of Asia and the rest of the World, leaving the free world isolated. They wanted to stop the commies in Vietnam, first by training the locals, but now all of us are here, trying to stop them VC. The people don't even want us here. It's just fucked up."
"These commies, who are they?" she continued.
"Worth many points perhaps, yes?"
"The Soviet Union, and all their lackeys. They don't believe in freedom, supposedly, but Washington doesn't really give a shit either," Lance said.
"We need to get back to your base then," Tamaraigh said. "You need to vouch for my friend here so they don't shoot."
"It's a long f'ing way, we're deep in the shit now, ma'am."
Tamaraigh heard a sound, similar to what had come out of that "45" that Chief used, She stood up, looking for it's source.
"Get down!" Someone get on the gun."
Something hit her hard, and she tumbled to the ground, dead on the spot. A perfect headshot. Qyzen disappeared right in front of the crew."
Willard had been lying down in the boat taking a nap, and now he was … somewhere else. He tensed up, looking for his gun. It was back on that boat, he was sure of it. He'd fought unarmed before, and he could again.
Have I been captured, and placed into some strange cell? And yet this place seemed strangely decorative for that idea.
The sight of a robot told him that he'd gone insane instead. Something out of the old pulps was walking around on what he now realized was a ship. A … space … ship.
"I'm sorry sir, but as far as I know, Master Tamaraigh has not granted you access rights to her ship," the robot said.
"What a suave, desperate man," Cedrax said. "We have no idea where Tamaraigh, and the Trandoshan went. Let him stay onboard."
"What the hell?" Willard yelled, confusion filling him.
Dozens of cubicles filled the large office floor. Three men were huddled around a computer screen.
"There's a bug in the system. A character has been either accidentally or deliberately corrupted. He's inside another character's ship, without being invited, and his Class is null. His Account ID is also null. His storyline progress indicator is Consular Act2P1. His data object has no force powers attached. His available weapon list includes foreign keys not even present in the weapon type table."
"We get it," one of the others. "What do you want to do about it Joe? We should ban his account."
"Ban who? We don't have an account ID. Let's remote into Shadowlands first, and see what he'll tell us."
"Sounds good, I'll let the Gamemaster know."
Willard had asked the robot where he could get a drink, and tried to get out of the ship to head there. The door was locked. The robot C2-N2 said that was unusual.
Then 3 little green puppets showed up.
"Smuggler?" one of them asked.
"Trooper?"
"Jedi?"
"You're coming with us," the three puppet like men said, He was completely unable to resist them, as he and the others disappeared and reappeared elsewhere.
"Disciplinary Chamber," said the red lettering on the wall.
"Your character file has been corrupted, can you give us your Account ID," one of them said.
"Huh?" Willard said, "what am I in trouble for, am I dreaming?"
"You managed to show up on another person's ship, and you have no class, unknown equipment skills and no level. We want to help fix this data corruption and figured out why it happened. Were you trying to break anything?"
"I was on a mission, and then I showed up here," Willard said. "Is this Saigon, or am I back in Japan or back in the US?"
"This server is region locked to US customers. We'll restore your data, but since we don't know anything about how your character was set up, we need to ask you some questions."
"Am I dreaming?"
Willard couldn't understand a thing they were saying.
"Please calm down. You're character can be repaired to be either a level 1 trooper or a smuggler. Which would you prefer?"
Willard decided to go along with the green puppet in his strange dream, "Explain them both to me."
"Troopers are heavily armed special forces of the republic. They serve the republic with their weapons, armor and dedication, and are often involved in special missions. Smugglers, on the other hand, use smaller weapons and cleverness, and work to make credits trading in contraband goods throughout the galaxy. However, lately they've turned to supporting the war effort on the Republic side."
"What are credits?" Willard asked.
"Basically money."
"Bah, they fight for money. Forgot that, special ops for me," Willard said. This was either a dream, or a bizarre psychological test.
"It appears we do have your account information after all. Your character overwrote the Tamaraigh character in the database. You're paid up for the current month, so we'll give you full access. I'm teleporting you to the Trooper introduction now. There's still more to figure out, but with our logs we should be able to find the source of the corruption.
Tamaraigh had "died" on the boat, and re-appeared to the astonished crewman 20 seconds later. Her respawn was the back of the boat. Could be inconvenient if she got far from it, and didn't find another spawn point.
"Qyzen," she said, bringing him back.
No one said anything. They backed away from Tamaraigh and Qyzen.
"It's time for us to be off this boat, and figure out what's going on," Tamaraigh said to Qyzen.
"Qyzen agrees. Not like Jedi to sit."
Tamaraigh laughed, there were so many jedi that did stay in the same place for years. Especially at the temple.
"Never get off the boat!" the Chief said. "It's suicide out there. There's no one friendly out there. Are you a retard."
"We'll be going now," Tamaraigh said, matter-of-factly. "Thanks for your information about this planet's conflict.
There was a mission somewhere, she knew that. She wouldn't have been sent here in such an unusual manner if there wasn't.
"Ready to swim?" she asked Qyzen.
"Is not avoid."
They jumped into the disgusting river, which pulled them steadily downstream as the boat motored upstream, increasing the distance between them.
It was a few minutes before they reached the banks, soaking wet. It started raining. It was a heavier rain than she had seen on any of the world's she'd been on.
"Let's hope we respawn on land and not back at that boat."
"Hope no need for such things."
A speeder wouldn't help in this thick jungle.
Tamaraigh activated her saberstaff and started cutting through the jungle. Qyzen used his techblade to do the same.
Five minutes later, when Tamaraigh heard the sound of the locals' powerful guns, she went invisible, got low to the ground, and watched Qyzen turn invisible too.
The two spotted, and swung around the flank of the men that were headed to where they had been. The sound of hacking in the forest had aroused attention.
There were a half dozen of the men, and their guns were enough to kill her in one hit. At least the local hostiles were not force users. She thought sarcastically.
They must have been group mission level enemies, she decided, and kept her distance from them. When she and Qyzen reappeared, they had stowed their weapon, and were quietly navigating through the forest.
She could pick off smaller groups of the weapon users perhaps, but not so many. Not until she grew more familiar with the weapon's capabilities.
A ranged fighter such as a republic trooper, would have a better time against these enemies, she thought. How well would trooper armor hold up to the local's weapon. Qyzen had been shot in the face, so that wasn't a test of armor, and Tamaraigh's robes didn't really count as armor.
Tamaraigh expected perhaps a twenty minute hike through the jungle before they would find a clearing and directions where to go next. Qyzen knew more about jungles having gone big game hunting in them before, and was worried just how big the jungle they were in was.
The puppets were gone, the others were gone. Now he was on another ship, moving fast across a landscape that didn't look too unfamiliar. It felt like a helicopter, so he thought of it as one, and got more comfortable. He looked down. He was wearing a garish red and steel set of armor plates with some kind of weird ear equipment holding a weapon he'd never seen before in his life.
"Calm down Rook," said the man who sat across from him. "I'm Gearbox, I keep Havoc squad operational. Glad to have another member of the team."
This Gearbox was some sort of maintenance tech, he recognized. Havoc Squad was a new designation.
"What are you authorized to tell me about Havoc Squad?" Willard asked.
"Other than you being the new Havoc Squad rook? We're special forces, you'll meet the rest of the team soon enough. We're trying to retrieve a ZR-57 Orbital Strike Bomb that the separatists on Ord Mantell have got their hands on. The rest you'll learn as you go."
The helicopter (as he called it) was hit. He recognized the shaking. A helicopter hit with a missile is a goner. Crap.
"We're crash landing, hold on," the pilot yelled from up front.
The copter came to a stop, thudding into the ground. He was fine, and so was this Gearbox.
"Go on ahead, take out their surface to air launchers. I'm not a fighter, so you'll have to do it yourself," Gearbox said.
He was supposed to take out missile launchers, by himself, without knowing any of the specs of the weapon he was carrying or how to strip it, repair it and aim it.
It could be a small guerrilla force with the launchers, he thought.
The 'copter' that he had been in was, in fact, not a copter at all. WIllard couldn't identify how it flew at all. It looked like a big white brick.
This was not a guerrila force, he realized, as soon as he looked at the city street ahead of him. He couldn't identify the factions, but one of the groups had almost ten times the men as the other, but the outmanned group didn't fall back.
He approached one of the outnumbered fellows, on a hunch, while keeping low to the ground, gun? at the ready.
The soldier didn't attack him, but spoke to him instead. "The separatists are swarming the area and attacking any ships that pass through here. They've got plenty of anti-air capability. If you're going into that mess to take out the sams, you might as well take out their jammers. I need to transmit intel back to Fort Garnik and that sure ain't happening while those jammers are operational."
"Where's the rest of your army, this seems like a straight up fight, not special forces," Willard said.
"Scattered all over the place. We weren't equipped for such a large insurgency. Could really use your help. Report back to Fort Garnik once you clean up Drelliad village."
Another trooper, with the same weapon and clothes he had ran up to the soldier as well.
"Sergeant Blyes has new dialog?" said the trooper, "I'm up to date on all the patch notes, I thought."
Blyes saluted Willard as he ignored the other trooper, understanding nothing of what the man said.
Willard crouched in the grass a bit past the soldier.
This was a battle, and one special forces trooper, especially one with a weapon that he didn't know like a friend, was asking too much. Willard watched as the crazy nonsensical trooper ran right up into the village with no strategy.
Willard crept forward to watch the man die, and saw that he was fighting the enemy at short range, standing stock still in the middle of the village, and not dying. What the hell?
Willard aimed at one of the separatists fighting the crazy trooper, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, except that the weapon actually spoke to him. "No target acquired" it said effeminately.
Keeping low, he spotted one separatist on the outskirts of the village. He eyed him up, looked at the man and tried to fire his weapon again. "Out of range".
What, these weapons didn't work from 60 feet, are you kidding me?
He crept closer to the separatist who wasn't with the rest. Willard finally realized that the separatists weren't all human. His target had blue skin instead.
30 feet, he guessed, and he fired. The gun fired this time, hit the separatist head on, but didn't phase him. The man shot back at Willard with a smaller, more pistol like weapon.
The shot stung, but nothing more. He held the trigger down, it only fired once. It was actually a segmented trigger. He had been hitting the bottom trigger, which covered 70% of the grip. He pulled the top trigger, and a grenade of sorts launched from the barrel of the gun. The separatist still didn't fall. Still shooting Willard from the same position and stance.
Curious, and foolishly. Willard ran up to the separatist. He fired the gun point blank in the energy burst mode, and killed the separatist. The man hadn't run, hid, or stopped firing as he approached. Was he fighting machines that looked like men?
There were plenty of other separatists around, but they didn't try to shoot Willard. He guessed that if these weapons only worked from 40 feet in, and they were just robots, then maybe they didn't care to swarm him.
He had been hit 3 times, but the pain went away rapidly, and he felt as healthy as before.
Willard had to find a real gun.
Tamaraigh and Qyzen came out of the jungle into a clearing, into a substantial group of soldiers. Tamaraigh was still not sure who the friendlies were around here.
This time, the weapon fire was much faster, and louder. Extending her lightsaber, Tamaraigh tried to deflect one of these new weapons. The lightsaber blade was deflected towards the ground violently when the projectile hit it. Tamaraigh found she was still able to go invisible.
Stealth and luck was the only reason they weren't back on that boat. She snuck around the enemy position while invisible, getting away from where the soldiers continued to shoot.
"Cease fire," yelled the man in charge. These other soldiers, the VC, hadn't spoken common. But this group did.
She couldn't force persuade so many people at once. Soldiers, once they start shooting at someone, seldom consider them a friend later. They would shoot if Tamaraigh reappeared.
Finding a place to hide for the moment, she said to the Trandoshan. "I need to find different clothes, and you need to disappear for now, these people don't seem to know the Trandoshans exist, and they are our best chance of figuring out what's happening here.
"Will find favor elsewhere," Qyzen said.
"I'll ask for you again soon."
Qyzen disappeared.
Tamaraigh shadowed the movements of the group of men, staying invisible.
They were on patrol, and now returning to base, which gave her a chance to find the nearest base around here.
It was another hour of staying close to them, invisible, but then they reached a set of four vehicles. They were strictly ground transportation for the local soldiers.
Most of the soldiers piled into the back of the first two vehicles, leaving room for climbing into the third one. The back of these vehicles was large, and open to the elements, without any good seating choices. The soldiers sat comfortably on top of the metal rim of the vehicle, or on the metal bed in the middle.
Tamaraigh stayed to the edge, in case someone hit her on accident and realized someone else was in the vehicle.
She almost fell off the vehicle when it started moving, but she braced herself, and rode along with two soldiers, completely invisible the whole time. She hadn't been forced to operate so stealthily in the past, but she didn't want to spook or make enemies of these people.
It was a bouncy ride, as the vehicle neither flew or hovered over the uneven surface of the planet.
She listened to the conversation the two soldiers in her truck had going.
"Kim says he saw a monster out on patrol."
"Kim's an idiot."
"There was something out there, they didn't want to fight, knew they would be outnumbered. When have the VC ever acted like that?"
"Stop being stupid."
"I bet whatever was out there is tracking us now, waiting for the right time to pounce, and then we get stuck with the last truck.
Interesting, someone had seen them skulking about and noticed Qyzen Fess, and felt like he was a monster rather than Trandoshan.
"We've got leave coming up, you really need it Eric, you're going insane."
"You've always been a hardass Keith,"
They lapsed into silence, and then sleep. The invisibility was wearing her down. If she wanted clothes to blend in, she was going to have to steal from these people's stockpiles.
The hours passed, and she tried to stay awake and hold on to the invisibility. Hours later, the truck came to a stop, Eric opened his eyes.
There was a woman in the back of the truck with him and Keith. Out of the deepest sleep he'd had in weeks, he swore first, before he acted.
She wore grey robes, her skin complexion was vaguely olive. She didn't belong with the unit. Maybe a buddhist nun or something he guessed.
"Shit! who are you?" Eric yelled. The other trucks were slowly unloading, as he said it.
Keith reacted quicker than him, pulling out his rifle.
Before he could shoot he went falling over the edge of the truck.
"You, listen to me."
Eric felt like listening to the robed monk.
"Tell the other man why he fell."
"You're so clumsy Keith. Remember we're taking this local back to HQ."
"Bring me to your HQ."
"Alright lady, back to hq."
With his pistol at her back, and her apparent cooperation with all the words of acceptance and encouragement, he took the lady to HQ tent.
"What do I want with some medicine woman?" Captain Frenell shouted.
"Take her to Camp Walker if she's one of theirs or let her go if she's one of our friendlies."
"Who are you?"
"A friendly medicine woman of sorts. I am somewhat known as a healer."
"Go back to your village then," Eric said.
Williard didn't finish dealing with the separatists. The idea of dealing with these VC equivalents unequipped was ridiculous. A weapon was what he needed.
He got shot at by several goons looking like they had sniper rifles with only 40 foot range.
His gun had the grenade, the single shot and now a energy burst.
He swore he hadn't seen all the trigger mechanisms before.
He was hurt badly, and had to lie in the tall grass, thinking he was bleeding out before he realized all his strength and blood had returned to him.
This was still a crazy weird dream. He'd heard of Pong but never this.
Fort Garnik was a small outpost in Nam size. Like the ones up river a ways. No shelling however.
For its small size there were still quartermasters offering to sell equipment for credits.
Class ID: Trooper + 4efc93a not found
Vendor Trooper array[4efc93a] found
Equipment list updated
It was like a narrator in Willard's head.
The last Quartermaster said, "Looks like your prices are in mission reputation points."
Williard - Decorated Special Forces Veteran
Rep (x5): 173,000
M1911 Pistol 45,000
M16 Rifle 130,000
OG107 Fatigues 60,000
Hi-Tech Scope 125,000
Unlock more by leveling Trooper + 4efc93a
Williard realized that even with his history he couldn't get more than a pistol and fatigues or a M16.
This colorful armor would make him stand out like a clown.
Buy M1911 Pistol
Buy OG107 Fatigues
The q even took the colored armor from him, giving him 500 of these points.
Quest Complete! 25 xp, 25 pts
68,525 pts
Level 1 XP 150 of 500
What was it, Willard thought to himself. 50 Meters effective range. 165 feet?
What would happen when he shot seps from 165 feet if even their snipers had to get within 40 feet?
It would be best if he shot from 100 feet until he got the pistol sighted in.
A tad close, except camo could help him. Where does a hard drinking hard fighting man get some camo paint?
A few of the crazy armored "troopers", and a scantily clad "scoundrel" passed him by as he shuffled along, off the side of the road back to the main seps AA positions.
He eyed more of the sep "snipers".
Ammo, where's my ammo? He thought, his belt cache was full somehow.
Did I forget buying the cartridges?
.45 ACP. He loaded the 7 round mag. Popped it in.
Feeling naked fighting alone with no war camo, he nonetheless slunk down prone, aiming for the first sep's teeth. The sep was an ugly beast of a thing. Now that he thought about it.
Blam, blam.
Two shots into the sep's chin area, one left an inch, one right.
The impact spread and shattered the sep's jaw and lodged fragments in his throat. He tumbled but lived, yelling. Adjusting the sights a bit Williard aimed for the nose. Yellow, brown and huge.
The shot hit the bridge of the nose instead of its protrusion.
One last caterwaul brought death.
Reloading, adjusting sights back down slightly, he aimed for the left eye and fired three rapid. The third shot hit the eye brow, the first two pierced through, eye to brain.
Something sparkled around the first dead sep. He snuck forward through the tree line to the slight depression in the hill country. Ammo, which the sep didn't use with his strange gun that was not a gun.
Local coins. And, oddly enough, two cigarettes, looking clean as a whistle in the middle of the blood pool.
He'd have to find a light later.