These Shattered Stars -- Logs

Several days after the betrothal itself, and after a hectic series of parties, functions, affairs, and hoopla that are held all over Balmorra, there are finally a few restful days with nothing planned. Freyja manages to arrange for a small trip to one of the Northern estates. While perhaps not as large as the main Southern estate of Haus Rigg, it is much more enclosed by wilderness; in fact, most of the corporate noble houses have preserves and parks in the Northern area. According to legend Macronainsberg (the largest "public" preserve and one of the few non-aligned cities on the planet) was founded by a splinter group from one of the Human colonies. Piper's grandmother was originally from Macronainsberg, before Sigulf Ridomr met her during a rather eventful visit and she apparently taught him a thing or two or dozen.

But Macronainsberg is about three hundred kilometers away, and for now the small party is at the small lodge which serves as a jumping-off-point for travelers and hunters in the Baron's woods. It is a comfortable place, and while the Baron himself has not gone hunting in quite some time, he has maintained it. The living room, warm and comfortable against the slightly harsher Northern chill, is decorated with a variety of hunting weapons, not only classic, antiquated (but fully functional) slug-throwers and crossbows, and the equally-traditional hunting pike, but more modern arms, including a hunting blaster and even a bowcaster; all but the pikes are securely locked in place.

Zero stands with folded arms, looking up at one of the slug-thrower cases and mumbling to himself. "Four-fifty-four. That's thirteen millimeters. Tch, what a waste. Unless you're hunting a katarn there'll be nothing left to bring back..."

Piper grins wryly. "'Tis nary a waste if ye're huntin' some o' the large squealers, Zero. Thot'll be jus' enough tae get one o' the elders right mightily annoyed."

Zero says, "Yeah, but the question is can you actually hit one with the recoil that cartridge produces. Have you ever shot one of those things? It was the first time a hand weapon ever knocked me over."

Maishen seems only a little out of her league there; she remains relatively quiet, if alert in a rapt sense. Fafnir has been somewhat more talkative, though hunting is clearly not his forte; his own huskarl has been almost stringently laconic if unerringly polite; his name was given as Huskarl Bel Antilles, a Corellian and a longtime retainer of Haus Jotunsen.

Freyja smiles, glancing back over her shoulder at Zero and thinking he looked quite nice in his black-fur-trimmed new overcoat and boots... then says quietly, "Wait until you see a geri-cat or an autumlas, Zero. They're BIG." She points to the fur on the floor in front of the fireplace. It spans about 16 to 20 square feet and is a lovely, luxurious, thick, white fur with a subtle ripple pattern in it, "That's a young geri-cat. Adult autumlas are about twice that size."

Zero frowns a little. "Better off with a concussion gun at this size..."

Freyja adds to Zero, "You don't have to hunt anything if you don't really want to, either, Zero... I usually don't. I like the riding. As long as you're careful about where you ride and listen to your slaypneer, you get plenty of warning time to avoid the geri-cats... and the land is lovely and snowy and wild out here."

Piper chuckles a little. "'Sides, 'tis only rarely thot huntin' geri-cats is done. 'Tis a mark o' th' nobs -- er, th' nobles, an' a big to-do."

Fafnir nods. "Hai, the geri-cat hunt as a noble tradition started when the Count Shul Veus'sil of about 4281 PR killed a geri-cat which was harassing the primary Trandoshan colony, and-" He breaks off, and grins sheepishly. "Sorry. That is to say, it is an old tradition."

Freyja giggles softly, then says, "Plus, there aren't a whole lot any more. Not like there used to be... so Father tends to let them be out here. They're a bit... enthusiastic sometimes, wandering in close to the lodge, but usually just at night, and the automated guard-droids keep them back with sonics... just don't go out alone, and don't go out without a droid at night."

A day or so after arriving at the lodge -- which is remarkably peaceful considering the bedlam accompanying both of the betrothed prior to this little trip -- Vakkal approaches Freyja quietly, and asks her if there might be a chance for him to try hunting again, as his people do. Freyja nods cheerfully, "Of course, Vakkal! I did promise you a hunt. Um..." she considers, then adds, "-although I don't know what sort of hunt you prefer, as far as prey?"

Vakkal thinks for a moment. "The autumlas would be... well, rather silly to hunt. If I recall my training right, we'd need at least two other hunters to properly draw one away from the herd and take it down. The gringniosters, though... how large do they usually get?"

Freyja holds up a hand at about shoulder level, "About this tall at the withers." She grins, "They're not much of a challenge, though, if you know the trick."

Vakkal arches an eyebrow and grins, "If I fail, I'll ask you for the trick. But for now... I've got to see if I can... can still hunt. Like my people do, that is. They should do well, I think, if it's permitted?

Freyja says, "Oh, definitely. If you're thinking of hunting alone, that'd be my suggestion, in fact."

Vakkal nods. "I'll look for one of them, then. Thank you, Freyja."

Freyja nods, "All right." She's faintly disappointed, but simply comments, "If you need something to carry the carcass back, you can take a slaypneer or a droid."

Vakkal smiles wanly at her look. "Freyja, the way my people hunt isn't the way your people do. It takes a long time for training... and I don't even know if I still have it within me. I need to find out."

Freyja firmly reminds herself, internally, that how Vakkal chooses to hunt is his business, and she shouldn't butt in. She nods, then smiles, "I think you worry too much, Vakkal... I think you have far more in you than you give yourself credit for. But you should do what you think is right." She wonders what it is precisely that Vakkal's so worried about anyway... he's been a soldier and an apprentice with great success. How much more difficult can hunting be?

Vakkal smiles, and nods. "All right. Well... whenever you are ready and willing to go, I shall be ready."

Freyja brightens a bit, then checks cautiously, not wanting to make an incorrect cultural assumption, "Are you saying it's all right for me to come along?"

"Oh... yes, it is. I'd be glad for you to be there. It's just... the tracking, the pursuit, and the cut... that is what I need to do." He smiles wanly. "With the diverse set of skills that calls for, I'm surprise I had any capacity to learn anything else."

Freyja looks puzzled, even as she starts collecting up a saddle bag and stuffing gutting equipment into it, "Vakkal... am I missing something here? You seem to be attaching a great deal of importance to this. Um... should I be doing something special, or is there some ritual you need to do first, or during the hunt, or something?"

She reviews mentally as she packs... she doesn't think Vakkal has any broken claws, and even if he did, all the clawed things she's ever seen grew them out eventually... no damaged teeth... what's he worried about? He's not physically incapable, and he's mentioned being part of his clan, and been a soldier, so surely he's not mentally incapable of killing something...?

"The hunt itself is the ritual. Well... it was a great many things. It was something of a civic duty, and a rite of passage, and a means of survival. When we began to develop higher levels of technology, we still hunted with nothing more than a vibroblade. In one sense it allowed us to hunt as we needed, without fear of exhausting the resources around us, and in another it proved to ourselves that we were still a growing and capable people, physically and spiritually. So to speak."

Freyja slings the packed saddlebag over her shoulder and heads for the barn with Vakkal, so she can take a slaypneer. Considering his ground speed, and the aggressiveness of some of the plains and forest animals, and that they'll need something to carry the carcass, she thinks her being mounted is wisest. She tilts her head curiously to regard Vakkal, listening to his thoughtful answer.

Freyja tacks up the slaypneer quickly and surely, smilingly reassuring the stable-sapient that she's fine and can do it on her own, thanks all the same. She makes sure someone knows where they're heading out for, then swings easily up into the saddle. She gathers the reins, then smiles at Vakkal, "Lead the way then, Vakkal. This is your hunt... I'm along for whatever else you need." She adds, as her slaypneer ambles casually along after Vakkal, "Do you want any information about gringniosters?"

Vakkal smiles and nods. "Thank you, Freyja. Yes, I would, please. I know they are herbivores, and run in herds in the forests. They tend to be shy. Uhm... I think that's all I know..." The pair head out along the hunting trails. In this time of year there's no people walking them, but for a few subsistence hunters.

Freyja talks quietly, enjoying the cool day and the lovely ride as she informs Vakkal about the big, goat-like creatures, "They're very spooky, so if they see you they'll take off immediately. If you get in amongst them, though, they'll turn on you in defense. Watch the horns -- very sharp points -- and they'll rear up and try to stomp you with their sharp hooves. Like most of the animals out here, they tend to be a group of offspring and aunts centered around a matriarch, along with all their descendants and with a few hopeful adult male hangers-on. Um... do you want the trick to hunting them?"

He grimaces a little. "Oh, dear. They'll be a challenge, then." He seems pleased, however. "I'll need to track any stragglers and go that route, and avoid getting in amongst the herd. I take it they're hexapedal, like most native Balmorran life?" He blinks a little, considering, then nods, "We would sometimes use tricks to hunt some animals, especially ones that were inherently dangerous."

Freyja says, "Hai, just about everything here but us imports are six-limbed... even the flying creatures, if you look real close." She nods, "All right. Just go out where they gather, and put up a stick. Hang your hat on the top of the stick, then go hide somewhere in line of sight. Give them 20 to 40 minutes, and one of them will be sniffing your hat." She considers, then grins, "Um... that only works if you want to shoot them, though, now that I think about it. I don't get the impression that's what you're looking for in a hunt?" She adds, "They're very curious. If you want to watch them that's a great way to get them close."

Vakkal grins quietly, "No, it isn't. But I can try something. Thank you. that may come in very useful..."

Freyja says happily, "Sure!" She's not sure why she's so pleased she seems to be helping Vakkal do something he feel very strongly about... but she is.

They travel up one of the ridges for a short time before they are in gringnioster territory -- the telltale damage to the trees from the passage of the long-horned beasts seems unmistakable. Vakkal takes in a deep breath, then nods. "Perfect," he says, and begins to take off his huskarl uniform. "I don't know how long this will take," he adds. "You should be able to follow what I'm doing." He grins, "Unless I'm much better than I thought I once was."

Freyja grins, leaning down to take the uniform and pack it away in the saddlebag, "We've got all the time you want, Vakkal. Enjoy yourself. Just wave me up or back if necessary."

Vakkal nods, "Thank you." He finishes undressing, and is pretty much clothes-less now. "I'll try to be quick. I don't want to put you at risk for this by being away too long." He pulls a vibroblade from his rolled-up clothing. Then, taking another breath, he looks around. He stands there like that for several long moments. "So different..." he murmurs, almost trepidatiously.

Freyja grins, "Vakkal... listen to me, please. I'm not at risk -- I'm mounted. Enjoy yourself. That's why we're here." She watches in silent fascination. A part of her worries a little that Balmorra will offer Vakkal either too much or too little hunting challenge to satisfy him... and a part of her thinks he looks really nice, standing there in the fur -- lovely gloss to his coat now, and an attractive stippling pattern across it... she waits quietly for his lead.

Vakkal breaks himself out of his reverie, and looks up to Freyja, nodding. "I'll try." He looks back up the ridge, and takes a few steps. A moment later he sprints forward, awkwardly at first, but as Freyja watches his movements become more sinuous. Instead of the crashing sound through the brambles when he started, within ten seconds he's sliding his body around the roughage. Within twenty he's almost out of sight.

Freyja smiles quietly, somehow unsurprised that something like this should come back to him quickly. She nudges the slaypneer on into a trot, following at a courteous distance. It's easier when she doesn't have to worry about keeping someone riding pillion comfortable -- she and the slaypneer can dart around without concern for the back rider flying suddenly off.

From her vantage point -- and a bit of a sharp eye, and knowing where to look -- Freyja can see Vakkal edging through the brush. He seems to consider a moment, then sets up a sort of curious scarecrow or such. Lacking a hat, he looks around a little self-consciously, then rubs a number of broad leaves beneath his jaw, grimacing a little. He looks at them, then sniffs at them a little before nodding in satisfaction. He makes the leaves fast to the short stick in the ground, making them nicely prominent, before looking around and climbing the large tree nearby. He disappears into the upper branches -- Freyja cannot see him too well now; he must be holding very still.

Freyja backs the slaypneer out of sight, waiting quietly and letting her patient mount graze. She lets her mind drift as she waits... he seemed self-conscious at marking the leaves. Is that perhaps something not ordinarily done in his culture? Perhaps considered impolite in polite society or something? Or... canids occasionally express hierarchy that way. Was he worried on some level about offense being taken by those that actually own this territory? She smiles. Considering it's her family's land, he has implicit permission to mark part of it if he wants, while hunting.

And that worry about his hunting skills... he really seemed concerned. Why? He's obviously in good shape, well-trained, and aggressive... she still gets a small thrill of pride in him when she remembers he wasn't immediately bested by the head huskarl, Kuras Magnussen. She tilts her head thoughtfully, still carefully watching the bait area. Maybe... maybe he left his clan under some cloud associated with hunting?

Interesting too that in some ways the Sith are even more egalitarian than the Republic... there's no gender differentiation in the title 'Sith lord.' She can appreciate that... even as she wonders if the Sith affected the cultural development of Vakkal's people.

Vakkal stays there for a very long time. It actually is about an hour before Freyja can espy a few of the shy, sharp-horned gringniosters approaching the area again. They're very hard to see in the woods; sometimes they seem to completely disappear, and then a branch will shift as one of the creatures moves it out of the way. They are very timid, however, particularly at the very alien scent on the leaves Vakkal left. Freyja strokes one hand along the quietly grazing slaypneer's neck, watching in alert fascination.

The gringniosters eventually begin to move away from the scent-ruse, losing curiosity in it and letting their natural shyness take hold, especially since it's a very odd scent. Just barely, through the openings in the leafy branches in the tree, Freyja can make out the sleek gray shape of the canid Sith edging down the trunk.

Freyja raises a curious eyebrow herself... odd (to her, at least) both that Vakkal's not just springing on them, and that they're not more mesmerized by this entirely new scent. Surely his scent isn't that revoltingly different, to a gringnioster, from that of a human -- or any of the other non-native species on Balmorra that hunt? Then again... maybe he's waiting for a straggler. That'd make sense.

Suddenly, the descent is a lot quicker, and Freyja realized he's more or less falling. He timed it well enough; the herd has already begun to move off, and this one is one of the last ones to be hanging around the ruse. It appears to be a controlled descent, however -- or at least relatively controlled.

What happens next is less of a pounce than a vertical tackle, as Vakkal seems to attempt to bodily grab hold of one of the gringniosters. Instead he plows down into one, failing to get a grip on it but bringing it crashing to the ground. He doesn't get hold of it, though, and it scrambles up to its feet -- in time for Vakkal to recover and leap onto its back, grabbing tight hold of it as the rest of the herd bolts -- as does the one he grabs on to.

Freyja whews softly to herself -- Vakkal's in for a wild ride if he can't quickly claw out its throat! She gathers up the reins, urging the slaypneer on. It's already picking up on the commotion, its ears flicking interestedly in that direction. She pulls up before she's near the clearing, staying out of Vakkal's way but there if he needs.

The gringnioster bucks strongly for several moments, wheeling around and trying to dislodge the canid. After a few moments there's a glittering arc that breaks from the sphere of movement -- Vakkal's vibroblade thunks into a tree. Freyja has a moment in which to catch Vakkal's expression -- a mixture of startlement, self-rebuke, and knowledge that this is not at all going to be pleasant -- before he starts trying to use his claws on the throat of the beast.

From this range it's oddly hard to sense even the slightest bit of Sithstain from Vakkal. He manages to hang on for dear life, despite almost falling down into the minor forest of sharp hooves beneath him. Then there is an almost startling splash of the odd, pale yellow-red of native Balmorran blood from the beast's throat, and the gringnioster thrashes about a bit more. It bucks mightily one last time, throwing Vakkal up and out, sending him end-over-end about ten feet into the air. To his credit, despite his expression saying he'd dearly love to, he makes not a sound. The gringnioster thrashes around a little more, then collapses heavily to the ground.

A moment later, there is an equally heavy crunch as the canid lands in the bramble not far away. Freyja winces... brambles, ow... she's both relieved, and worried for Vakkal, but she also does her best to keep her mouth shut -- although her sudden tension causes the slaypneer to snort softly and shift around restlessly. She soothes it absently, watching and waiting. C'mon, Vakkal, get up! Show me you're all right...

There's no movement for a few moments. Then, bit by bit, there is a crunching, crackling sound from the brambles, and Vakkal tries to carefully pull himself out of the mess, panting heavily. Balmorran native blood stains his hands; his own deep purple blood appears where brambles have poked him, but it's apparently nowhere too important. He shakes away his dazed expression, then hauls himself out of the thicket. "That'll teach me," he mutters wryly, "-to pull something I did as a cub. I think Fhazil's rubbing off on me..." He falls on the ground and rolls onto his back, trying to regain his breath. "You... were right. Oh, that was... one hell of a ride..."

Freyja sighs in relief... then grins, nudging the slaypneer into the clearing. Her voice is gently teasing, "Kuras Fhazil rubbing off on you? Horrors." She dismounts, looping the reins over one arm, and kneels next to Vakkal to check him, "So... nothing broken, just scratches?"

Vakkal pants quietly as he lies there, then grunts softly, and pulls himself up, looking over to the body of the gringnioster. "Blast," he mutters. "If I let it bleed out here, they'll avoid this place for years... too late." He nods a little. "I think... I don't think anything's broken." He smiles wanly, though it's exhausted. "Nothing at all, I think. Just rusty..."

Freyja nods thoughtfully, swiftly tapping instructions into her medpac, "Looks like you've got the beginnings of a greenstick fracture here," she touches his right arm with gentle fingertips, then goes back to working with the medpac, adding, "Some bone foam and a bacta pad will have you all fixed up in a day or so, if you don't stress it, though. Considering you flew about 10 feet into brambles, I'd say you're doing pretty darned good!" She grins, then looks pleased, "You're all in one piece still -- despite its best efforts." She glances over at the dead gringnioster, then heads for the slaypneer, "Let me get the tools to do a quick gutting, so the meat doesn't spoil before we get home."

Vakkal chuckles softly. "Very lucky. I broke both my arms doing something like that when I was much younger. Caused me to miss making my first great hunt." He pulls himself up a bit, letting out a sigh. "Whew... thank you, Freyja. I... I needed to do this. I haven't hunted like this since... since I left Khar Velos. I'd almost forgotten..." He shakes his head to clear it. "Oh... yes, please. You've done it before? -- Silly question, of course you have. Can you show me how it is done for Balmorran animals?"

Freyja smiles, leaning to hug Vakkal gently, "I think you did great, Vakkal." The big canid smiles, hugging Freyja back warmly, though he doesn't use his blood-splattered hand.

Freyja grins cheerfully at Vakkal when she straightens, "Sure! It's easy when you have a slaypneer handy for the heavy lifting, too." She shows him how to hack a sturdy bit of branch, then cut slits for it just above the hocks... then tie rope to it, fling the end over a sturdy tree branch, and loop it firmly to the saddle, so leading the slaypneer forward will raise the carcass into the air high enough to allow the blood to drain. Then they knot the rope to another firmly rooted tree, and conduct the messy business of gutting a large animal. Freyja pauses, looking at a few of the bloody organs she's just pulled out, then looks up at Vakkal. Curiously she says, "Are the organs a delicacy and a reward for your people?"

Vakkal works quietly with Freyja. At her words he considers. "Some are, but it depends on the animal. Certain grazers have livers that are poisonous to us, while with others the livers are very tasty. It depends on the animal, and since there was no guarantee of a particular species being caught in any great quantity, we never attached any special importance to some. We'd try to make as much use of all the organs as weren't toxic."

Freyja nods, "All right. I can check the liver with my medpac for potential toxicity to your system, if you like?" She pulls the medpac with her clean, formerly-knife-holding hand, giving him an inquiring look.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Yes, please."

Freyja grins, then happily checks. She hopes it's non-toxic... even considering all the time the sapient species on Balmorra have been 'civilized,' first 'eat' at a kill is still a big deal to all the ones she knows of. She'd like Vakkal to have that privilege... he earned it.

The liver doesn't appear to be poisonous; like most Balmorran life, it seems fairly innocuous to most forms of life with genetics based off of the deoxyribonucleic acid double helix and variants of the same. Freyja smiles, holding out the liver in her bloody hand. Her voice is quietly formal, "As he who gave the killing blow, you have first right to the kill. Would you like?"

Vakkal looks a bit surprised for a moment, then he smiles, and accepts it gratefully. "Ah... thank you, Freyja. I'm... honored. My people don't have such a custom -- we are communal hunters -- but I've been told it exists in other cultures." He considers. "And I... didn't exactly hunt this time for the clan." He breaks out of his reverie, smiling sheepishly, finally managing to recover his lost knife from the tree. He cuts off a piece and hesitates only for a moment before popping it into his mouth and chewing, considering the flavor. "Mmmph... not too bad, actually. Definitely a herbivore." He in turn offers it to Freyja, smiling quietly. "And seeing as you helped me in doing this, Freyja... well, I don't know if there's a 'second right' tradition or not..."

Freyja grins happily, "Thank you, Vakkal. Actually you did hunt for the clan, in a way... we don't waste meat here. We make sure the people get it, and sometimes we have some ourselves too. As far as second right, that's really up to whomever has the honor of first kill." She pulls her gutting knife again, wiping it off, then casually cutting a small piece for herself. She wrinkles her nose a bit, grins, and then nips it hastily down herself. She laughs softly once she's swallowed, adding, "Thank you, Vakkal... I'm honored."

Some time later the successful hunters return to the lodge, Vakkal weary but pleased, and the carcass strapped firmly down on the (slightly snorty) slaypneer behind him. Freyja will, as the servants and droids take the carcass in for butchering, and the slaypneer for clean-up and a nice, hot bran mash, smile and murmur quietly to Vakkal, "I'm glad you got to prove yourself to yourself. Now... want a nice hot bath to clean up?"

A few days pass, during which the group simply enjoy the peace and quiet, away from the madness that is state affairs at the Rigg manse. The days are spent comfortably, practicing riding the slaypneers at the lodge, and the evenings spent comfortably warm, a real wood fire in the fireplace and some excellent food and hot toddies in the evenings. All in all, it's very relaxing, and a much-needed respite from the hectic few days surrounding the betrothal.

After a few days, the decision is made to start on something of a hunt, to at least give the pretense that that is what they're there for, and the following day preparations are made.

Fryja looks around at the saddlebags and equipment stacked by the door, "All right... are we ready to go? We can double up on the slaypneers with no problem."

Zero says, "Ready when you are."

Freyja shoulders a saddlebag and heads for the door, one hand running lightly across her weapons belt to make sure all the requisite equipment is there, "Excellent. Let's hit the road then!"

Freyja helps the off-worlders mount up behind the natives they wish to ride with, explaining simple riding etiquette, who shoots and who steers in emergencies, and how to dismount in cold weather without hurting themselves. Then she mounts up and offers Vakkal an arm up as well. Then she knees her slaypneer around, leaning to look and be sure everyone else is fine. "All right... we'll assume this is a nice ride, and if we stumble across some spoor, then we'll try hunting, hai? That all right with everyone?"

Freyja studies how Piper and Fafnir are handling their slaypneers, to see if she can assess how confident they are. In case of emergency, she wants to know whom she has to get to first. Zero spends a while getting comfortable in the saddle. "This isn't exactly like riding a swoop bike. Why is it I get the feeling this could actually be more dangerous?" He finds himself thinking, Because repulsor-lift engines can't step on you...

Freyja grins at her brother Padawan, "Well, slaypneers have one huge advantage over swoops... as long as you stay in the saddle, they'll always take you home."

Zero says, "At least they're quieter."

Freyja says, "And they're real tough to flip, unlike the swoops." She grins, "That too, hai."

Zero hmphs. "I've never flipped a swoop over in my life." He adds after a moment, "'course, I'd be dead right now if I had..." Freyja grins over her shoulder at Zero, heading at a brisk walk down the trail.

Piper laughs merrily; she seems to handle a slaypneer with about as much capability as a spacecraft. "Self-maintainin' too, Zero," she says, glancing over her shoulder at him. "An' th' six legs make 'em verra stable..." She starts the mare down the trail after Freyja. "'Old on tae thot pike, lad. If ye'd like tae go after somethin', jus' let us know. But mind ye," she adds merrily, "-if'n ye get it intae yer head tae go after one o' Dairmuid's Gullinbursts, or a geri-cat, I'm thinkin' thot me an' this 'ere slaypneer'll ha' ye outvooted two tae one..."

Fafnir also seems well capable of handling a slaypneer as well, and surprisingly -- or, perhaps not so surprisingly, considering where she hails from -- Maishen grasps the hunting pike in the saddle-rest with some sense of familiarity. Freyja is quietly relieved. She turns back to face forward in the saddle, an unwittingly eager look on her face as she heads out through the snowy morning.

"If we see one of those things," the little assassin murmurs, "-I'll be using this pike for a pole vault. Ride on, Piper."

The ride begins. It is a pleasant day, if a bit nippy; Piper is apparently perfectly comfortable with the temperature, but the others might need to bundle up a little bit. Antilles brings up the rear on a younger slaypneer that seems much more suited for a single rider, while the others gather up front. At one point as they crest a hill they just manage to see, in a clearing off in the distance, a huge blue-black hide disappearing into the tree line.

"Aye, there be one o' th' elder gullinbursts," Piper says cheerfully. "Fadin' away from us, seems. 'Tis a good t'ing, we'll nae wish tae tangle wi' one o' them." Freyja watches with silent appreciation as the massive, boar-like animal paces majestically into the trees. She likes seeing the animals, but has no problem with letting the huge, cranky, old gullinbursts wander off in peace. That's more than she'd really want to bite off and chew, metaphorically speaking, on a hunt with first-time riders.

A little further along the trail small animals, all curious Balmorran hexapeds, scramble from the underbrush and across the trail. Fortunately the slaypneers are well trained and do not try to toss their riders at the merest hint of a startled small animal.

Freyja drops her fur-lined hood and unbuttons her outer coat as the ride progresses and she warms up. She's having a lovely time -- she's missed riding tremendously, although she didn't realize it until she got a chance to do so again. She sings quietly to herself, in rhythm with the pacing slaypneer, her low contralto occasionally slipping back to the riders behind her. As she sways easily in the saddle, enjoying the bright, crisp, cold day, she wonders happily if the natives of Sedrak will let her ride some... that'd be lovely!

The stream of animals lets off after a bit as they near the ridge of hills overlooking Loch Campbell. At the top of the hill, the wide plains surrounding the Loch are spread out before them. Below they can see the large, slow-moving, somewhat ungainly herds of autumlas. Freyja grins, turning to face the others and waving one arm out towards the dark, heavy, furry mountains out there, "Autumlas! They look small from here... but they're about 10 to 15 feet at the shoulder usually, as adults. Want to go down amongst them? As long as we stay mounted and don't pester them, they don't care."

Zero says, "Up to you, Freyja... I don't think I want to poke anything, particularly." He feels a bit awkward saying that, reflecting on the fact that he usually hasn't any problem with killing things that are an order or two more sentient. Then again, he supposes, the animals don't strictly deserve it... his usual prey usually does.

Freyja grins, "They're real easy-going, as long as you don't harm them or their young. All right!" She nudges the slaypneer on into an easy canter down the hill, her short mane of hair flying back from her face, her laughter rippling in the clear morning air.

On the western shore of the Loch is a small community, which Freyja and Piper know to support the local herders. A high tower rises from the center of the town; Zero can spot a geothermal tap, rectennas, a landing pad -- all the amenities of a modern community. A few slaypneer riders occasionally sally forth from the town, bringing errant wandering autumlas back to the main herds. Zero says, "Nice setup for a herding village."

Freyja eases her slaypneer up gradually, so Vakkal doesn't get jounced around and the autumlas aren't alarmed, and walks sedately in amongst the huge, slowly grazing beasts. Up close there's a distinct musky scent to them, and a quiet, low rumbling interspersed with the occasional grunting or, more rarely, a high-pitched squeal... as if they kept a constant, reassuring conversation going between them. Their fur is long, thick, and shaggy, usually dark, hanging well below the middle of their six legs. Freyja grins, calling back to her friends, "When I was younger and sillier, I used to climb from my slaypneer up onto their backs, and do cartwheels and things down their backs."

Zero chokes up on his pike a little bit, reflexively. "Well... not terribly nasty, are we."

Freyja laughs! "Neh, they're pretty peaceful most of the time. They're at least partially domesticated... they're horned mostly because it's easier if your meat animals can defend themselves somewhat." She adds dryly, "Don't let one step on you."

The autumlas are remarkably docile, or at least clearly have a fine sense of what can hurt them or not. The stream of small animals from before seems to start up again, coming from the southwest. Small rattatosks, chittering animatedly, dance through the herd of the slow beasts, eliciting little more than barely interested grunts.

The grunts become a little closer to squeals as the rattatosks are then joined by a number of feral cattas, much smaller cousins to geri-cats. Treating the autumlas as little more than stepping-stones, the extremely agile, six-legged felines scramble around, under, and over the herd beasts. Maishen and Fafnir both yelp in surprise as one leaps from the back of an autumlas to on top of Maishen's hat... then just as quickly leaps off to the back of the next autumlas.

A few gringniosters join the tide... and the autumlas begin to show restless signs as well. Freyja grins, watching... then starts to look a bit concerned. She stands in the stirrups, shading her eyes and scanning to the southwest. What's driving all these animals this way? Zero frowns a bit. "That's... odd. Something coming?"

Freyja nods slowly, "Hai, I think so, Zero." She's still watching that way as she starts nudging her slaypneer firmly out from the midst of the autumlas, "Let's get out of the herd... if they all start moving, we'll be stuck running with them." She glances back to be sure all three other slaypneers are coming along fine with her.

Zero hms. "Yeah. Let's get up where we can see a bit better."

Fafnir nods his head worriedly. "Hai. Let's keep it slow, we don't need to startle the autumlas any more than they are, or are about to be."

A flock of birds erupt from the forest to the southwest as the four slaypneers emerge from the herd -- and a large, silver-furred geri-cat erupts out of the forest line, its six legs a blur as it plows down the hillside straight towards the autumlas herd. From the town can be heard shouts, calls, and the start of an alarm bell of some kind. Freyja says, "Holy sheisse! Hang on, Vakkal..." She reins her slaypneer around sharply, waving people on past her, "Move, people!"

Antilles' eyes widen, and he drives his slaypneer with some agility beside Fafnir's. The young lord gives a shout, but rides his own slaypneer out of the way of the apparent impending collision of predator and prey-beast, Maishen holding on for dear life and looking to Zero like she wished she had something on the order of a heavy bowcaster.

Vakkal gives a startled sound, and holds on to Freyja tightly at her command, considering, then declining to draw his mere sporting blaster, which looks like it would be little better than flinging autumlas fodder at the geri-cat. Unless Zero objects, Piper wheels her slaypneer about as well, getting her and Zero out of the herd as quickly as possible. Freyja looks relieved, nudging her spooky slaypneer after the rest. Unsurprisingly, the slaypneer is more than happy to oblige, pounding along with the other four as they head for the tree line.

Zero swears quietly, "Damn, I don't want to take that thing on with my lightsaber... hope it takes more interest in the autumlas..."

Freyja reaches back to slap one hand lightly on Vakkal's thigh, "Take my heavy blaster, Vakkal!" She doesn't look back as she does so, trusting he can pull it from her belt on his own.

The autumlas begin letting out loud, harsh squeals that raise the small hairs on the back of everyone's necks, as they begin to move quickly, with surprising rapidity, together into a wheel, the youngest and weakest in the center of the herd, the strongest on the outside, with their horns facing out. The ones facing the geri-cat begin to stomp their feet, bellowing great, loud noises from lungs that seem bottomless.

Fafnir and Antilles both glance back now and then as they ride pell-mell for the tree line, but only once or twice. Freyja calls ahead to the others, "Pull up at the tree line!"

Zero looks back over his shoulder. "Oh, hell. Maishen!" He calls out in suddenly accented Aurabesh, "Catch this!" Hope using the dialect from home catches her ear... and I hope this is easier than floating a rock... He reaches back and unholsters his blaster, and with a wide swing flips it out toward Maishen's slaypneer, reaching out with the Force to guide it in the right direction... and hopefully keep the barrel facing the right direction.

Zero's blaster sails forward towards Maishen, who turns, reaching out her hand while still holding onto Fafnir for dear life. Zero's throw is otherwise good, and if not on a moving animal it would go fine, but his concentration with the Force falters, perhaps due to the saddle whacking him in the tailbone as the slaypneer rides forward madly. He sees it arc downward sharply. Then there is the surge of something through the Force...

The blaster leaps upward as it's about to hit the ground, landing neatly in Maishen's hand. The girl is visibly panicked but holding herself well, as she looks back at the geri-cat's mad descent down the hill. Zero's eyes widen, I didn't do that! He tries to straighten himself in the saddle, his back smarting, Maishen? Could she...? Damn it, no time to worry about that now...

Meanwhile, Vakkal has managed to work Freyja's heavy blaster from her holster without getting particularly friendly, though he pauses a little as he too senses the odd double-surge in the Force. Freyja blinks, turning her head, "Was that you, Vakkal? Neh, couldn't have been -- I don't think it was me -- Maishen maybe?"

Vakkal calls back, "I don't know! I'm worried about that monster back that! That's a geri-cat?!"

Freyja pulls up at the tree line, turning her slaypneer to face the valley below, backing into the trees for cover. Better to face the geri-cat and shoot forward... she grins as she calls back, "Hai! Looks like an adult. Pretty, aren't they, for a ton of fur, claws, and teeth?" She amends judiciously, "Well... maybe a ton and a half..." She grins, soothing the spooky slaypneer, hands light on the reins but not allowing it to bolt.

The geri-cat doesn't stop as it reaches the herd; if anything it makes a sharp turn around the beasts, evading them and leaving a herd of befuddled autumlas in its wake, the threatening, bellowing call just barely dying out in a few of the beasts' throats. The geri-cat continues on to the shore of the loch and just keeps running, disappearing out of sight into the far stand of trees. From here, riders from the town are starting to assemble to ride out and assess the herd. Little flecks of brown and greens are still moving through the glens, however; the small critters have not stopped their fleeing.

Freyja blinks in astonishment as the geri-cat keeps going... then murmurs in a quietly concerned tone, "All right... that is downright wrong... what could it be? Fire?" She sniffs the air worriedly, then studies her slaypneer. What's it reacting to now? From what direction does it think danger comes?

Piper wheels the slaypneer about as she finally reaches the trees, and blinks as she sees the geri-cat zoom around the herd and disappears. "I ha' a verra bad feelin' aboot t'is."

The air is clear. There is no smoke, no crackle of fire, no squeal of charging gullinblast. The slaypneers don't make any reaction, though their ears flicker a little... and orient towards the west... there is a faint tremble in the ground -- very faint. But it becomes a little stronger, and accompanying it is the crash of something though the forest to the west.

Freyja nods absently to Piper's words, then looks to the west. Quietly she says, "Vakkal... com this in to the lodge, please." Vakkal swallows a little, then starts to speak evenly into his comlink. Freyja says calmly to the riders, "Brace yourselves... the slaypneers may panic." She's already shortening up the reins, settling firmly into the saddle. She doesn't know what's coming -- but whatever it is, she'll outrun it better on a slaypneer than on foot, and she doesn't intend to get tossed.

The crashing sound becomes a little louder. It almost sounds like something taking no heed of the smaller trees around it. And the trembling starts to feel almost... rhythmic. Like large, heavy footsteps. There starts to be heard another faint sound, something odd and disconcerting. Freyja blinks, backing her slaypneer into the trees. "What could it be... a war droid?"

Zero frowns and pulls the lightsaber grip from his sash. "Something..." He murmurs, "It's coming."

Freyja glances back and forth, making sure all the slaypneers are still under control and close... then turns to study the west. "Vakkal, keep reporting for as long as you can."

Out of the tree line crashes a bipedal monster of black durasteel and blue-glowing optics. Three meters tall, with an armored carapace and vaguely humanoid, warning or malfunction lights flaring on its side, it isn't readily obvious what particular company built it, but what is obvious is that it's what's been tearing up the forest, with ferns and branches caught in odd angles upon its body. It walks -- but what a walk -- faster than some people can run. The barrels of heavy weapons hang are arrayed upon its shoulders as it tromps out of the forest, pausing only once -- the observers can possibly imagine the little non-sentient droid logic processor whirring and clicking -- before charging forward again.

Freyja draws in her breath sharply, in horror, "Oh my goddess... the village!" Then her voice gets dispassionate, "Vakkal, report -- it's from Dossen Military Automation." She studies the mech carefully, watching to see if it's just out of control -- or actively hostile.

Zero says, "Watch it; that's gotta be a test model, KV-35s don't carry blasters. And it's got diagnostic indicators-- this thing's on the blink."

Freyja wonders what the mech's doing so far north. To the best of her knowledge, Dossen Military doesn't have proving grounds this far north... nor do they have much to do with Cyteller. She points, "Look... I think those marks on the hull are from weapons fire."

Zero says, "It's carrying heavy blaster weapons. Stay low... it's carrying them on pintle mounts. Heavier blasters than man-portable... this thing's dangerous."

Freyja frowns, "So the critical question is what its mission goal is." She continues watching carefully, half-listening to the quiet murmur of Vakkal behind her. Odd that it should get this far unnoticed...

Zero says, "It's still an AI, don't forget... it could be deranged."

The war droid tromps forward. The autumlas herd is startled sick by it, and revert to their herd instinct of trying to scare off anything that threatens them. They bellow, they stamp... and there is no reaction from the droid as it continues to stomp forward, catching one of the autumlas who tries to butt it with its horns. The droid doesn't even stop. Its motion simply pushes the autumlas to the side hard into the other herd-members. The creature lets out a loud bellow. The war-droid continues to stomp on, reaching the edge of the water, and with almost mathematical precision starts to circle the lake... right towards the lakefront town.

Zero says, "It's going to stomp right through that town if we don't stop it."

From the town, the calls from the tower to assemble the workers become panicked, shouts and calls as people scramble all around, the alarms growing in intensity, creating a bedlam of sound. People are trying to gather together to find out just what the problem is. Some get together weapons; others are smarter and are starting to flee away from the droid.

Freyja shakes her head, her voice almost casual as she collects up the reins, "Can't let it do that. Hang on tight, Vakkal... we're going to try to draw it off until help arrives." She clicks to the slaypneer, moving it forward slowly long enough for Vakkal to get a good grip, then breaking into a canter... speeding up into a gallop, the riders as flat against the pounding beast as they can get.

Zero says, "It might just be damaged and walking forward for no reason... but it's still going to demolish anything standing in front of it, even if it doesn't mean to."

Freyja shakes her head quietly... it's not shot anything; it's done nothing but walk forward, turning only at the water. Oddly, that's not the most direct route to the town... it didn't even kick at the autumlas -- just walked through it. Maybe it would be best if the townsfolk didn't attack it -- just let it stomp through town. Attacking might trigger a reaction.

Piper grimaces. "Now I'm rememb'rin' why I'm nae alla thot fond o' livin' on Balmorra! One o' these days..." She gets the slaypneer turned around. "M'lord, if'n ye'd stay 'ere, might be best tae stay clear!" With a shout, she wheels the slaypneer around fully. "'Ang on tight, lad!" she calls, half over her shoulder to Zero.

Freyja calls back to Vakkal, "Tell Leif's huskarl to keep him in the tree line!" Vakkal nods, and communicates that to the other huskarl. Freyja calls over to Piper, "Ride ahead and clear the town! Get them out of its way, and don't let them shoot at it!"

Zero says, "KVs are pretty stock machines. If anything's been modified, it's the weapons systems, maybe the processor, couldn't say without looking inside. The blaster system is the threat... they're characteristically not very agile."

Freyja nods to Zero, "Thanks! Can you tell its field of fire?"

Zero says, "Shoulder pintles. They're designed to lay down standard fire fields and higher for limited ground-fire support, but... with a blaster deck like that it'll never get them higher than a few degrees. It can be flanked."

Freyja grins, "More precise, please, Zero! If I'm going to be dancing around it I want to know where's safe!"

Zero says, "I just said standard-- forget it, you're not a soldier, are you. Stay out from in front of it, the weapons are too heavy for it to fan out at all."

Freyja nods, "Better, thank you," then goes back to concentrating on riding.

Zero says, "It's strictly direct fire, with heavy blasters it'll be programmed to hit first and hard... but unlike a c-gun it can't put up sustained or suppressing fire; it'd tax the power supply too much. We'll have to outmaneuver it, that's our best advantage. It can put up concentrated fire, but that works in our favor while we're mounted."

Freyja says, "Excellent, that improves my chances. Hopefully we won't need to try any dodging at all, if Piper can keep everyone from shooting."

Zero says, "If it comes to that, get your saber and cut the body. If we kill the power supply, it dies." Freyja nods. Zero adds, "It's in the torso; and aim low. It's the heaviest internal component, so they put them close to the center of gravity." Freyja nods again, listening carefully even as she closely watches the mech tromping along. Zero says, "Are you gonna try to do this alone?"

Freyja's voice is pragmatic, "Of course. Someone's got to warn the townspeople, and the lord's a guest. Shan't ask anyone to do what I'm not willing to do. Hurry back if you can. Vakkal, slaypneers can carry three, if you want to go with Piper."

Vakkal snorts a little. "No time to do that, Freyja, I'll stay..."

Zero says, "All right. One last thing; they react faster, but they can't anticipate as well as you can. Stay behind or to the sides, and don't move with any one pattern too long. Cut low in the middle, and get up under the guns as fast as you can."

Freyja nods, "Got it, thank you."

Piper nods. "Raht! 'Ang on, Zero, gonna be a bit o' a rough ride!" She nudges the slaypneer faster, her and Zero pulling ahead of Freyja to angle around the droid.

Zero calls back over his shoulder, "And don't you dare get shot on me!"

Freyja will draw rein a short distance behind the thing, leaving Piper to gallop on to the town. She watches the droid alertly for sudden changes in behavior as she pulls rein, then giggles at Zero's parting comment, calling, "Can't you think of anything better to do on you than get shot?" Zero just leers in response. Perhaps mercifully, Piper's riding brings them out of earshot of one another. Freyja grins, adding more quietly to Vakkal, "I didn't think you'd want to leave, but I had to offer. If we have to attack it, can you lean out to use the lightsaber and I'll steer?" She follows Zero's advice carefully, staying back and to one side of the mech. She adds, "Any ETA on backup?"

Vakkal grins toothily and leans a little to the side. In his hand is his un-ignited lightsaber. "I think -- *urf* -- I can do that, Freyja..." At her question, he blinks. "Uh," he stammers, and manages to stay in the saddle. "They said they'd send the house troops here. Air speeders. Could be a few minutes, though."

Freyja mutters under her breath, "I tell them there's a mad mech here... and they send house troops?! I'm going to smack whoever authorized that if anyone gets hurt!"

Vakkal narrows his eyes, gauging the distance to the war-droid as Freyja holds back about 20-30 feet. "They said they're bringing heavy weapons. We don't have battle droids normally ready to go up here; it'll take a little longer to get them here. The air speeders'll be the first here."

Freyja says, "Ah, good." She keeps the slaypneer moving in an irregular pattern, randomly following the droid, "No worries, then, they're doing their best."

The war-droid continues its ambling march forward along the edge of the lake, holding to it as if it were mathematically bound to the edge of the water. It takes no notice of Freyja, or at least doesn't react, even though there's a sensor cluster on its back.

Freyja looks ahead in short glances, hoping Piper and Zero get the townsfolk organized quickly. Zero is riding with Piper, alert and ready. Aside from those occasional glances, however, she mostly concentrates on keeping the slaypneer dancing quietly back and forth in random patterns behind and to the sides of the war droid. Piper rides like a madwoman, not being much for conversation. The guests are back at the tree line.

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Last modified: 2002-Jul-16 16:14:54

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