Canderous:
I hated having to use kolto. An almost dizzying sensation as the pain slipped away. Granted, choking on your own bodily fluids wasn't exactly desired, but pain existed for a reason. A hard lesson, a warning. I could only imagine how many idiots would stuff their arms into a rancor's mouth if they couldn't feel its teeth shredding their flesh to ribbons.
The old man had been full of crap. Tachs were the predominant creature in the Shadowlands. I'd only be in trouble if I was afraid of an animal throwing its feces at me.
I tried to take a step and fell. Yeah, that leg was definitely broken. White hot lances of pain shot through me as I hit the ground. Honorless dogs! Kriffing whelps trying to play at being real men.
It was below me to have to kill a group of teenagers. But they were old enough to know what honor dictated. That I was stuck waiting for my healing implant to catch up with kolto only further pissed me off.
I pushed myself up against a tree, my repeating blaster against my chest. The blood in my mouth was my own and I spat it out contemptuously. They claimed they were rebuilding the clans, I'd rather see the clans dead and cold in place of those impertinent pups' making a mockery of everything we were.
The wildlife around me felt restless. The thought of succumbing to a kinrath after flaying those faceless bastards made me chuckle. I waited as patiently as I could while the kolto and my healing implant warred over which would knit my femur back together. A kinswoman would probably say it was a sign I was getting too old. I placed a cigarra to my lips. It had been ages since a clan mother kicked my ass.
A smoke was a good measure of time. Measure of experience. On a light day aboard the Ebon Hawk I would smoke five cigarras before lunch. It helped dull the urge to slaughter the horrifically lucky fools that I traveled with. Today, I had smoked eight. As the cigarra ash grew closer to my fingers, I gave a sidelong glance to the corpse pile in front of me.
They had called themselves Fetts. Had I still been eighteen, I would have given anything to fight beside a Fett. To think that their clan name was used so loosely now was sickening. Since there was no honor in our encounter, there was no need to prepare a funeral pyre. Their bodies would be left to rot, their heads guarding the perimeter.
I chucked my cigarra butt and tested my leg. Still sore, still healing, I could afford to walk on it. I limped on towards the barrier Czerka had erected. The old man claimed he was the only one that knew the codes. Bantha spit. Doors opened for you and if they didn't, you broke them down.
The corpses had a variety of mines and grenades. Cowards' tinker toys. I littered mines, far too close to each other, along the archway. Covered with mines, I found shelter and activated an energy field. Then I chucked a grenade at the structure.
There's something carnal, beautiful about gratuitous destruction. From the idiot tach that was struck by flying debris to the scorched earth that remained after the archway was decimated.
The ground was hot as I trampled back over. No use in returning to Rian Vega's party; it was stupidity to take up arms when you couldn't fight effectively for another few hours.
The explosion seemed to have scared most of the wildlife away for the moment. I hurried as fast as I could, dragging my injured leg behind me. I wanted to be gone when the scavengers decided it was safe to pick apart the tach remains.
The Shadowlands had twisted, dense foliage. I could understand why those nameless chose the area to hunt. There was something dark about the very soil. The creatures teemed with a rage worthy of defeating. What they thought to accomplish by stealthing the Wookiee population was beyond me. Yes, they were powerful warriors, but how could one experience that by sneaking up and gutting an unarmed Wookiee?
They had wanted a cheap excuse, a claim to honor for clan leadership. Instead, they found me.
Their leader was quick to send all of his lackeys to their deaths. So I killed him first. Blasted him twice and when his energy shield failed, skewered him with a vibrosword. The big one was next. Thought because I had more than thirty years on him I'd be out of shape, thought because I was half his width I'd be weak. Fool. With bits of his skull dotting my neck, I took on one after the other. Bathed my hands in their blood, felt them die, cleansed our clans.
The Wookiee chieftain's hound was where we had left him. Faithfully simpering at the lift that led from the Shadowlands to the branches above.
I sat down on the lowered ramp and swung my legs over into it. The Wookiee guarding the contraption sniffed at me. It grinned savagely and barked something.
"No conversation," I said. "Just take me out of the Shadowlands."
The Wookiee's smile died and it growled. I wasn't in the mood. If the situation had been different, I would have killed it, but Rian and her group needed it to guard the platform while they did whatever they needed to do.
The ride up from the Shadowlands was quiet. If I so much as shifted, the Wookiee bared its teeth at me. I would have to start studying their language. I offered a brisk nod as I left the platform for the twisting ramp way. The Wookiee snorted and began its descent back into the Shadowlands.
The Jedi were supposed to know something about healing. I wondered if Bastila would try to heal me or tell me my injuries were my own damn fault. Wasn't necessary, I just needed time.
I was being shadowed as I walked towards Czerka's main gate. So I stopped. Czerka didn't hire trash talented enough to be that subtle. I pulled a cigarra out of my case, deliberately slow. That's when I heard the high-pitched chittering. I could have laughed.
The irony of making it out of the Shadowlands in one piece only to be attacked by a group of kinrath was not lost on me. My injured leg gave out when I tried to move quickly. Used my repeating blaster from afar until they came within striking distance. Unsheathed my vibrosword, thumbed the power cell on. I counted seventeen, but they were mindless creatures. No less deadly, but instinct made them predictable.
"Smelled blood, did you?"
The insects shrieked and surrounded me. Typical. Hack off any pincer that came too close, aim for the softer underbelly. Sacrificed a gouge across the calf in favor of not being impaled, spun around to protect my back. Mindless in their assault, I was just cutting down rows of creatures lining up for me. But there were too many and it was inevitable that one was able to stab into me, just above the knee. I hadn't anticipated it to be a viper kinrath. I made a quick butchery of the creatures and tried to force my breathing to a controlled pace when I had finished.
Felt the venom burn through my wound and I fumbled for my hunting knife. I'd slash the wound, bleed the poison out. That's when I remembered I gave my kriffing knife to the kriffing blue girl. Frack. Had to get back to the ship.
Stumbled up the ramp. Numbness was rapidly crawling up my leg. And to think I was pissed when I broke it. Viper kinrath used neurotoxins, certainly looked better than a hemotoxin, but now I had to get to a med bay before my lungs decided to stop working.
Forced a steady pace as I headed through Czerka's main gate. Despite the obvious gaping hole in my thigh, some of the bastards chuckled about too much booze. I had more pressing issues than gutting some soft handed Czerka minions. Up the ramp, things were starting to feel sluggish. Worthless, kriffing implant.
Made it to the Ebon Hawk's docking ramp before I fell over. Wanted a smoke. Punched the metal ramp, if I could get the attention of the Jedi dame or maybe that damn droid...
"No, no, no, no, no, no!" Shrieks and big brown eyes. "No, no, no!" Fell into jibberish.
A naked kid? That was what I got to see before I died? Kriffing frack.
