The signal had been transmitted far and wide, picked up by the larger relays of Mataou and transmitted across the Galaxy.
People in Hutt Space, the Outer Rim and beyond heard what The Voice had to say and found the attached coordinates. Details were sparse but what was transmitted was enough to entice both the law-abiding and the non.
‘If you’re hearing this message, the signal has gotten through. The Hutt treasure vault I am stuck in is about to be bombarded from orbit by the Hutts - there isn’t much time but what is held here can topple their grip on the Galactic underworld! Finance a war a dozen times over! Please, help me escape and it’s all yours!’
Short, sweet and to the point.
There were riches to be obtained and beyond those riches the chance to change the face of the Galaxy for those with spirit and Will enough to seize it. Any who were brave enough to face the challenge would find that at least one part of the message was true; a Hutt fleet sits in orbit around Mataou.
Their perimeter is sloppy, at best, so it is a less than effective blockade but it is clear by the grouping of capital ships that something is going to be happening relatively soon. The coordinates would lead those brave few to the front entrance of the bunker, a massive building of reinforced durasteel and duracrete. A courtyard before the main entrance had space enough for several freighters, or similar sized ships, to land without issue.
Strangely, the main doors to the bunker would be open already, the mammoth doors showing a darkened entrance that led further below the surface of the planet. The courtyard itself was free from living creatures but that did not mean that it was empty; dozens of sentients had met their end in the courtyard, left in various pieces with their equipment left behind, untouched.
An unnatural silence fills the air, devoid of all signs of life or even the unlife those afflicted with AMS suffer under. A moment in time captured, frozen, waiting for those strong enough to shatter the peace to take their reward.
There were multiple reasons for Zathria to have come here. The fact that someone needed rescuing was the primary one, but the idea that there might be some assets the Jedi could use to go toward their slew of issues was another.
Getting through the blockade and to the planet's surface had been doable but difficult. Zathria wasn't exactly a master pilot, but she was passable enough to get through what had to be classified as the worst blockade she had ever heard of.
She set the ship down at the coordinates provided by the voice, and threw on a small pack of medical supplies in addition to her routine gear. Evacuations involved wounded people more often than not, and that was another reason that the Knight had come along.
Disembarking from the ship, she was struck by how quiet it was. Deathly quiet. Not even signs of the infected around the bunker. Why would the Cartel be planning to bombard the bunker if there weren't any infected? That seemed odd. And the bunker was open. Everything about this seemed... off to her. And yet if there was a bombardment coming, she didn't have much time to waste thinking about it and started heading carefully toward the bunker's gaping door. @Nefieslab@MatureContentWarningx
The Wailing slipped through the cracks between the fleet of ships like a dagger between ribs. She drifted down to the surface of dust and dirt while it swirled up beneath her belly. The ship landed opposite another. Grounded, the sky now loomed overhead. So simple a thing, such a change in view, where what was once beneath you was now above you. Kamelle descended the ramp of her vessel to glimpse that sky once her feet found ground. The clouds would be on fire sooner or later. Hopefully she would be far beyond them by then and not at all emptyhanded.
Turning toward the building, she felt invited in more ways than the transmitted message had conveyed. The gaping maw before her led to secrets as dark as the entrance and Kamelle was determined to steal them. She was evidently not alone in that endeavor. The other ship’s pilot had approached the doorway, and there was the distinct feeling that an encounter with her might lead to some conflict. Time would tell.
For now, Kamelle straightened her grey leather jacket and turned her head to the corpses in the courtyard. They littered the area like trash and left behind much the same: items that once belonged to them. Whoever killed them had not been after their gear. Then what? She tilted her head to the nearest man, motionless, and crouched beside him. Her hands examined his person while her eyes analyzed his position and compared it with the others; where they fell and who might have felled them. "What ripped the life from your body, dead one, and why?"
He'd been listening to whatever music had been playing in one of the holo-players for about an hour at the time he landed. The ship's crew were paid quite a bit for their trouble, though they wanted nothing to do with what was going on inside the vault. They had agreed to stay for as long as a day until Laeonas left, and he was confident that he wouldn't need all of that.
Though, if things went wrong, he might not come back at all-- or not even whole.
Reaching out with the force, Laeo's senses became unclear as he tried to reach inside his intended destination. Either he was still to weak after his absence, or...
...he was interrupted by the sudden bumping of the ship. They'd arrived.
The crew seemed convinced that he wasn't coming back, so they didn't bother saying goodbye. Even the captain, who seemed like a fond enough conversation partner, refused to speak.
Laeo had gone to his cabin. The new vibrosword he'd bought was of a cortosis and durasteel weave, and the new A280 was in decent shape, at least compared to the 80 year old blaster he'd lugged around beforehand. They were decent enough weapons-- and Laeo's own body and mind would surely come in hand, if these two weapons didn't.
Finally stepping off the ship, Laeo was taken in by the opened doors of the massive bunker. Throwing his hair back, the air and dust kicked up by the ship caused both his hair and coat to flutter in the wind as he approached. The rifle was slung over his shoulder, and the vibrosword hung at his waist.
He immediately noticed the arrival of others. Perhaps they might be enemies when they finally arrived at the treasure-- but for now, they could be allies, helping to face the dangers on the way there.
He said nothing; instead, he approached the entrance to the vault, preparing for what was going to happen next.
As the ship dropped out of hyperspace to reveal the drab and tan colored world of Mataou, Aska pushed the ship’s thrusters and bypassed the blockade along the southern hemisphere of the world before cutting back north and heading towards the co-ordinates from the distress call. After their escapades on Coruscant, the trio of hunters had picked up the transmission and knew they needed to respond, if nothing else but for the promise of a solid pay day. Besides, if there was ever an opportunity to burn the Hutt’s and any of their operations, Aska wanted to be right in the middle of it. Opting to leave the rest of her crew somewhere safe for the time being, it was only Poffo, Klied and herself on board.
The courtyard came into view, a few ships already landed before the massive bunker and as their own vessel touched down the trio could see the numerous corpses that littered the ground.
”Nice of everyone to die before we got here. Saves on ammunition and effort,” Aska joked to her partners as she stood at the bottom of the boarding ramp in her custom armour. Blaster, lightsaber hilt and vibro daggers secured, the clone placed a cigarra in her lips and began to make her way towards the looming durasteel complex. She had a gnawing feeling this wasn’t going to be as simple as she let on, however. No, judging by the other craft landed in the courtyard, there were others here already and they more than likely were drawn by the promise of riches just as she was. Drawing her SE-45, Aska began to mentally steel herself for what was to come…
Klied wasn't as eager to make enemies with the Hutts as Aska was. He preferred to stay under the radar of such powerful people if at all possible. But they were already doing a terrible job of that, what with their recent assault on one of the overgrown slugs' palaces on Teth. An act that must have seemed to them completely unprovoked. Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound he supposed. They needed to do more to bolster their reputation as hunters anyway if they wanted to get more work. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so. Still, he didn't offer so much as a chuckle at Aska's joke. Instead his eyes were laser focused on the courtyard ahead of them, scanning every detail of the scene with suspicion. He was dressed in the dull grey and black stipes of anooba fur. His Westar was holstered at one hip, his dagger on the other, with his cycler rifle slung over his back. He squinted as a gust of wind blew through the overly silent courtyard. Already his instincts were telling him to get the hell out of here.
"Well... Looks like not everyone got the memo..." He finally answered Aska, nodding towards the others approaching the entrance. He assumed they were working together, since they were the only living beings here. He didn't immediately draw his weapon like Aska did, but he did put his hand on his blaster as he started stalking forward cautiously. Instead of moving straight to congregate with the others he broke off to approach the collection of corpses strewn about. Kneeling down he inspected each one, trying to determine how long they had been dead and what kind of weapon had done them in. He also kept his eye out for tracks, trying to determine just how many survivors might be lurking about. The wind might have obscured imprints slightly, but it shouldn't have been unreadable. He trusted his fellow hunters to watch his back. If the others attacked he was still ready to react quickly.
For the first time in a long time, Poffo was feeling like a superstar. Before leaving Coruscant, Poffo had checked his crummy old apartment and the first shipment of his calling card leather jackets and dusters had come in, and he took a long time determining which one or two he wanted to take with him before they took off the planet for good on the run.
He was glad to have them as they approached Mataou. The distress signal got out loud and clear, and Poffo knew that a lot of people would be willing to do a good deed if it meant having the possible chance at raiding a Hutt vault full of goodies and treasure. Certainly, Poffo was interested in both. While rough around the edges, he did like doing the occasional good deed now and then, and the idea of making some bank was of the utmost interest. But, if this became a big deal, and Poffo believed that it might, this would be a great opportunity to show off his new threads and get some instant galactic street cred.
He selected a longer duster with a mix of bright neon green, yellow, and some reds and orange accents thrown in for good measure. In a large, bold, bubble font, "Mr. Macho" could be read on the back in yellow letters outlined in orange. The long tassels on the arms alternated between neon green and red. It was loud. It was obnoxious. It was Mr. Macho, Poffo Sauvage.
His shiny black leather pants with silver studs looked quite dull in comparison. But, the duster allowed him to pocket two sets of brass knuckles- one of them of the spiked variety and his tiny DC-17 blaster. The duster was open, so his blast vest, the much larger DT-29 heavy blaster, and the vibroblade knife with the 6 inch blade were easily visible.
Poffo exited Aska's ship and calmly put on his absurdly massive sunglasses. He nodded as he looked at the carnage. He would let Klied do the inspecting. Raxx was the hunter, the tracker. He would know what they were up against. Poffo straightened his jacket and looked at the fortress of a bunker ahead and could see some others heading inside. "Well, well, well....We aren't the only game in town. No, no, we're not. Someone's going to be mighty disappointed, yeah...But the cream...yeah, the cream rises to the top, and we're the cream, ohhhh, yeeeeah!"
Sevrin had worked with Zathria (@Phoenix ) on a few operations now. When the strange signal and the message came, he signed up to go with her to investigate the scene. The Sephi was adorned in simple Jedi robes and a saber. He wasn’t too keen on using armor, but he did have simple leather bracers along his arms and nothing else.
Sevrin stayed near Zathria as they approached the doors, looking around to survey his surroundings. His keen ears picked up the arrival of others possibly before Zathria would have heard it, “We’re not alone,” He stated simply, though he didn’t draw any weapons as they made their way through.
He could see the dead bodies at once, all in various state of injury. The Sephi paused to investigate a few, but he couldn’t find any patterns between them that would tell any kind of story. A glance up revealed a woman crouched beside a body. Sevrin surveyed her for a moment before walking over. (@Die Shize)
“Do you know what happened here?” He asked quietly before he glanced towards the bunker, “I assume you’ve received the same message.”
Was there any rhyme or reason to how the recipients were selected? He heard some more chatter and whipped his head around to catch others arriving. His face hardened slightly as he spotted one of them drawing a weapon already (@Tulos). Based on the nature of the message, he wasn’t entirely too surprised that the greedy criminal types would swarm all over this. Sevrin still didn’t draw his weapon, preferring to avoid confrontation at the very gates if possible.
The Catscratch landed close enough to the other ships for Davik to have a looksies at the other treasure hunters and what he saw was disheartening. "Kriff," he sighed and for a moment considered aborting his landing and getting back to Ossus. "Ofcourse, there's Jedi here-" the Ossein smuggler cried inside his cockpit, "Guess a share of the spoils is all I can hope for now." and would that be enough to elevate the 'Catscratch' to 'Black Swift' status? Could he make his own Lethisk-class freighter the equal of Kel Dryden's famous spacecraft? If that message spoke the truth.. then sure, one share of an unmeasurable fortune could do the trick, Davik supposed.
Powering down his ship, the smuggler rummaged around a bit and finally found his S-40 Stun pistol. He didn't really use it often, but seeing the dead bodies near the entrance it would probably be useful, so he secured it the pocket of his favorite jacket, the one with the Kowakian Devil logo on the back. Then he grabbed some trackers and his personav and headed outside. The Catscratch was locked behind him, just in case someone got greedy and Davik had been foolish enough to let his beloved ship be stolen once before.
For the moment, though, he was happy just watching the other vault-hunters from the distance. Some had already drawn weapons on the early risers and Davik, well.. he didn't want to be in the crossfire when shit did hit the fan outside. Besides, looking at the others, he felt awfully under-equipped.
Drow Venn had heard the signal being transmitted across the galaxy and, at first had wanted nothing to do with it. He'd worked for his fair share of both Hutts and mysterious voices during his time as a mercenary and those jobs had never really turned out well. But when he considered all the things that such wealth could do for the Order, he relented and decided to go. It seemed nowadays that his values were becoming more and more compromised for the sake of the Order but he had made his peace with that. The fact that other Jedi were also on the mission put his mind at ease somewhat.
He strapped on his armor, E-11 blaster, and his lightsaber and made his way to the entrance of this strange bunker. He didn't know what he was more scared of; those infected with AMS or the other enterprising sons of bitches who also heeded the mysterious transmission, especially with one girl already having her weapon drawn. He kept one hand on his saber and prepared to draw it if need be. Then he headed over to Sevrin to back up his fellow Jedi.
"I don't know if we have too much time to wonder with a bombardment coming. Best be on the move." Drow told the Sephi.
Further down the road that led to the bunker from the city proper, the waning sound of alarms. The sound comes across as warped, as though by age or perhaps too much heavy use, as it finally washes over the assembled hunters. Underneath the sound of the alarms, the sirens, there is a steady beat of something that is not easily distinguished from where the hunters stand in the courtyard.
As some of the assembled head toward the open doors, Kamelle and Sevrin would check over the dead strewn around the courtyard. Although Sevrin is unable to confirm much aside from the indisputable fact that the people died violently, Kamelle is able to discern more. Through a careful, closer examination, Kamelle is able to confirm that the body she is looking over belonged to a human male who bled to death. The cause of this death is fairly obvious as he only retains his left arm, the other three limbs having been bodily torn free from his body.
There do not appear to be any bite marks.
The sound of the sirens grows louder, nearer, as alarm systems closer to the bunker began to activate without warning. Amongst the din of the approaching alarms, a PA system built into the closest wall of the bunker sparks into life.
“You’ve come, thank every God in this Hutt-cursed Galaxy you’ve come!”
Without a doubt, the Voice is the same as the one that called out to the stars, offering riches and information for their aid.
“Quickly, into the bunker - the alarms you hear are the local system set up by the Hutts to warn of the Infected approaching! You must step into the bunker and manually close the doors, please!”
There is a harried note to the Voice, a breathlessness that speaks of panic.
The assembled hunters would all be able to see that the immediate interior of the bunker is a large, square, room with two small doors leading off from it at the far end. Within the entrance hall there is a pair of manual controls for the heavy blast doors, set up to be operated on opposite walls with the turn of the wheels found there, one for each blast door. Emergency lighting is the only source of light inside, casting long shadows with pulsing red lights.
Such an atrium may not be appealing to any of the hunters who had come but what is behind them is, perhaps, far worse.
Sirens are beginning to sound closer and closer to the courtyard, terrible trumpets that herald the oncoming tide of the Infected. Those with good enough eyesight would be able to see the Infected on their way, row upon row of different sentient species all charging en masse in a mob of gigantic proportions. The steady beat from before it now louder, loud enough that the sirens are beginning to get lost under the sound of thousands of feet slapping heavily into the ground.
For those who would take time to gauge the numbers of Infected, even briefly, the answer would be terrifying. The mass of flesh heading their way is a roiling mass of teeth and hunger beyond count for any organic at this stage. A droid brain may have been able to process their numbers but none of the assembled had such a mind so they would only know that it was a tide of Infected flesh enough to wash them all away.
“There is a hanger built into the vault - leave your ships if you want to live!”
Davik listened to the voice, heard the sirens and turned around. His eyesight was good, good enough anyway, to see something he really -really- didn't want to see. "Oh kriff no," horror wasn't just present in his voice either, for his entire face warped in that of an aging Quarren male giving birth to triplets. This. This was not what he signed up for.
The Corvus-born, Ossein-raised member of the Lorso family of cowards did something next that would undoubtedly save his life: He turned around, unlocked his ship and got back inside before locking the door behind him. Once inside only the acute sense of urgency in getting off planet prevented a full blown panic attack and he quickly managed to reached the cockpit. Luckily for him the engines were still warm and it would take less time for the Catscratch to start lifting off than it took for the horde of zombies to reach him.
Davik muttered inaudible stammerings of horror and despair as the ship slowly lifted up and the landing gear retracted. Perhaps he was apologizing to the people, including the Jedi, that he was leaving behind to become part of the undead horde, or perhaps, which was probably more likely, he reminded himself that just three months ago he had almost retired to a virus-free planet and lovely woman he would much rather have a spat with than... whatever the kriff those infected are!
The Catscratch would fly off just high enough for zombies to reach and low enough to not get noticed by the Hutt Cartel's capital craft that got ready to bombard the planet to pieces. He'd keep this going at high speed until he got a good distance away from the vault and found an opening in the Hutt blockade for him to sneak through.
One thing he knew for sure: He was never going to go back to this planet.
Zathria continued to look around the courtyard. Despite all the bodies littered there and the clear violence that accompanied their existence, she found it odd that whatever had caused it was still absent.
Though she hadn't pulled out her lightsaber, she was ever wary of the other people gathered here, and she was equally glad to have her fellow Jedi with her.
Then, almost in sync, an alarm started to blare and the voice that had brought them all here filled the air. The sight of the mass of creatures in the distance caused the Echani's gut to drop. There were more than she could count, and it was easily enough to devour every one of the people gathered here. She may have been suspicious of the others here, but she'd rather deal with them inside than the flesh eaters out here.
She made her way inside, watching for the others to follow. Once they were inside, she spoke to both Drow and Sev.
If there's a hangar in here, then why does this person need extraction? she asked quietly. The answer was, of course, that there was more afoot here than appearances would say, she just wasn't sure what yet.
She made her way over to the door controls, preparing to close them once everyone was inside. She may not have liked the look of the bunker, but it was not worse than what was outside.
Someone get the other side! she said, indicating the other set of controls needed to seal the bunker.
“This one bled to death,” Kamelle answered her guest simply, addressing only the first line of speech while dropping the corpse’s remaining hand to the dirt. Her eyes roamed the body’s face. “While wailing.” It appeared that his demise was not unique; the slaughter surrounding him might tell the same story. “The mutilation is not postmortem... No bite marks that I can see… If not the work of Infected, then, perhaps yet the work of something enraged, unbridled and unrelenting.”
While observing the artist’s illustration in an attempt to understand it, more ships began coming down. More meat. One of the new arrivals had drawn a weapon. That wasn’t unusual. As much as some carried rifles in their hands for convenience at a time like this, others carried pistols, and still others lightsabers. Kamelle’s own was yet hidden behind her jacket.
She rose to her feet as the alarm came; a droning, broken cry like a muffled plea. It grew louder. She turned to face the bunker as it came to life, recognizing the voice; others did too. At the warning of Infected, she looked at the bodies again and wondered. A moment later and a tide of bodies stampeded her way. They were silhouettes on the horizon but that would soon change.
As a ship took to the air, Kamelle might not blame the pilot but she had not come so far to turn back so soon. She turned to the bunker instead and hastened toward it. Someone was already at one set of controls. “I’m on it!” Kamelle darted toward the other side. As red light lit her up in the dark, hands on the wheel, she looked to see how close the horde was and whether to go ahead and close the doors. Apparently anyone not yet inside still had some time to do so but she was not willing to wait forever and her counterpart better not be either.
"That thing's a relic!" Drow shouted out as he too began booking it for his Y-Wing. He might have sworn away the life of a mercenary but that didn't mean the Ishi Tib still didn't love a good piece of military hardware. And the Y-Wing was and always would be a classic that still held up. He should know - he'd torn up some Sith with that old bird on Sullust not too long ago.
Plus, his droid Sparky was housed inside his Y-Wing and he wasn't going to abandon him to the hordes of the undead either. He hopped into the Y-Wing and took off, hovering about thirty-forty feet off the ground.
"Sorry my friends - had to save Sparky. I'll do my best to keep these hordes away from you and find another way inside. Let me know if you need a bombing run or an evac." Drow commed over to his Jedi companions before opening fire on the approaching horde with his Y-Wing's lasers.
Corpses hadn't interested Laeonas when he had arrived; he'd figured that others would come, and from the growing entourage of hunters around him, he was right. From the corpses on the ground, he figured, they wouldn't be the first to try.
Though, he'd be the first to succeed.
...well, he, and the... adversaries? Compatriots? He wasn't sure yet; he was optimistic, but most of the hunters seemed wary of one another. Some already seemed to be reaching for weapons, others had drawn them. Some looked to be wearing ordinary clothes, others absurdly flamboyant outfits, while the rest either wore the garbs of the Jedi, or the garbs of season mercenaries and assorted cutthroats. He fell into the last category, though, he wasn't drawn to those with similar attire, or any... yet.
Arriving at the vault's entrance, the black overcoat he wore went from fluttering in the wind to He could sense that there was something off-- what it was, he couldn't say, but it hardly surprised him, considering the morbid scene they'd arrived at. Was it the passing stain of murder? The malicious intent of the other hunters? Or an unknown danger-- and if so, where from? Within the vault? Somewhere else on the planet? Just when he needed them, his senses had grown cloudy.
"Kriff it all," Laeo cursed, gritting his teeth. Already, things were uncertain and hostilities were brewing-- what kind of job had he succeeded in under those conditions? To be honest, quite a few-- though, it usually didn't end well for everyone else involved.
Admittedly, however, the stakes this time around were far different, in that they were larger than any of them could have hoped for. Laeonas knew that as a matter of fact-- there wasn't a chance in the galaxy that any one of these hunters was wealthy enough that this wouldn't change their lives forever.
By the time he had made his way to the entrance, however, what that change might be shifted in his mind away from fortune, and instead, to a very abrupt end.
The wail of alarms, and the rumbling of bodies made it clear that every one of them there was in danger. He'd turned, and his face somehow became more pale than it already was.
Scrambling into one of the pockets of the skin mesh in which he kept his credit chips and other, smaller valuables, Laeonas fished out a comlink. Hitting the call button to many times for his own mind to keep count, he got a garbled answer.
"CAPTAIN!" he immediately shouted into the comlink.
"Wha-" the older gran began, but Laeonas cut him off immediately. "LISTEN TA MAE YA'OLD SHITE, THROW TH'AT HUNK OF SCRAP YOU CALL A SHIP STRAIGHT UP INTA THA ATMOSPHERE RIGHT BLOODY NOW!" He screamed, all the while running into the opened lobby area.
"What in the hell are you screaming abou--"
"LOOK OUT YER STARBOARD
WINDAWS AND GO!"
Closing the call, Laeonas turned to find the hunters rushing inside, or already in with him. One of the Jedi had moved to man the wheels, while another woman-- whoever she was-- happened to be on the other.
"Let the rest in!" He insisted, hoping that he was loud enough for both to hear, over the now cacophonous stampede. If this was the first challenge to meet them on this job, they'd need every non-infected hand to help them out with whatever was inside the bunker. Pulling out his blaster rifle, Laeo didn't bother aiming, but instead began to fire as quickly as he could into the crowd of corpses.
Glancing to the back of the courtyard, the freighter he was on managed to start climbing into the sky, and was well on it's way to escape by the time he had begun emptying the first of his energy cartridges into the crowd.
The behavior was almost pointless- almost. In a frenzied panic, Laeo's actions were mostly a mixture of fight and flight conflicting. He had nowhere to run-- none of them did. So, like a rat, trapped in a corner, he, a human boy, started firing at the group's collective and very obviously existential threat.
Aska turned from the gaping maw of the bunker to observe the growing group as they searched around for a clue as to what may have happened here, including one of her own partners. She didn’t see the point. They were already dead, after all. Be it by blaster or by blade, they weren’t going to be getting up to tell any tales now. Hell, the only thing that could have frightened her was the nightmare she had faced on Coruscant. If she ever came face to face with another undead, it would be far too soon.
Then, as though on cue, the loud speakers began to bellow a command for everyone to retreat into the fortress. The ground began to shake, softly at first but growing with each passing moment as the familiar voice bellowed it’s tale of caution.
”… to warn of the Infected approaching! You must step into the bunker and manually close the doors, please!”
Aska’s attention snapped. Infected?
”No…” she whispered as the cigarra rested in her lip. Dust began to build in the distance, partnered with the thunderous vibrations of the advancing horde. ”You’ve got to be shittin’ me…” Her stomach sank. Her heart pounded. She never wanted to go through something like this again and yet here she was…
”Klied! Poffo!” Aska yelled as the blood drained from her face, the threat now undeniable in it’s identity. ”RUN!”
Raising her SE-45, Aska took aim on a series of decaying pillars that held up an archway over the main thoroughfare that led to the bunker's courtyard and fired a volley of eight rounds. Each bolt slammed into the stone structure and soon, the archway fell. It wouldn’t do much but it might slow the horde on their advance. Turning back, Aska retreated into the bunker in a panic and began to aide the young Thyrsian woman in turning the wheel that would seal them to their fate…
The strut. The cock of the walk. The chin up, shoulders back posture. The very essence of confidence. Poffo had it all. Dead bodies? Seen 'em before. He heard the alarm and the call about the infected. AMS zombies? Killed 'em with nothing but balls of steel spiked knuckles of brass. Who were all these unprofessional, terrified wimps running from the zombies. Even Aska was saying to run. What has gotten in to her? She'd killed more of these things than Sauvage.
Sauvage sunk down slightly by bending his knees just a hair and pointing to Aska. "I don't know what you're getting at, sista from anotha mista! Mr. Macho don't tuck tail and run from no braindead zombies, yeah!" Poffo pointed up to the sky and twirled his index finger in the air as he slowly turned around to face the enemy saying, "Oooooooh......Y"
Then he saw them when he finished his 180. "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
He was not expecting a horde like that. The numbers...damn, he couldn't even count that kriffing high. Poffo was crazy, not stupid. He immediately turned and high-tailed it toward the bunker. Poffo was a big, hulk of a man, but a surprisingly good athlete for a man his size- agile, speed, etc. Despite the speed of the zombies coming, Poffo still had enough space between them to make it to the bunker. He yelled at Klied, his bounty hunting partner, "Hunter-man, we ain't gotta be the fastest to the bunker, just can't be the last, no, no! Trip some slob if you have to, brutha!"
Poffo put his eyes straight ahead for the bunker and didn't stop running until he got inside. The bunker doors were still open, and he hoped like hell whoever had hands on the controls was quick on the draw. If even a few dozen got in, Sauvage figured this collection of treasure seekers would have enough fire power and grit to take them all out. But hundreds? Well, the odds weren't great. And if the doors didn't close at all? Give it a minute, and there would be a zombiefied Mr. Macho dropping flying elbows on organics as a tenderizing method before sinking teeth deep into some flesh.
Klied didn't get much of a chance to look at the bodies before the alarms blared and the man's voiced returned, catching his undivided attention. As everyone seemed to be looking in the same direction the hunter turned around himself to to get a sense of what the panic was all about. The reactions appeared to be appropriate. As the undead horde crashed towards them like a rising tide the Onderonian wasn't quite as animated in his response as the others, his brow furrowing as he realized the deadliness of the situation "Shit..." He muttered under his breath before hopping to his feet and taking off at full speed towards the bunker.
At a full tilt sprint he was able to get inside along with his companions and a few of the other vault hunters. He tangentially noticed that a few of them were already missing. Whether they had fled or been overrun didn't particularly matter to him, he was in full survival mode. One of the men was shouting about 'Letting the rest in', an idea Klied didn't even bother to respond to. His allies were already inside, if they didn't close the doors now they were as good as dead. If the others didn't make it that was just on them for skipping leg day.
Noticing Aska was assisting the Echani on one door he turned to try and help the human woman on the other. Even if he didn't trust these folks it was fairly obvious cooperation was in their best interest for the moment, so he had no reservations getting close to assist in turning the mechanism. The hunter would push with every ounce of strength he had, adrenaline pumping through his body as the sounds of the encroaching hoard grew nearer and nearer. He was not going to die straight out of the gate, that would just be embarrassing.
Sevrin visibly winced as the alarms began to sound. Many things happened at once and the bunker was the only place to go. His silver eyes saw the horde approaching from a huge distance and he rapidly called the Force to himself. He voiced his displeasure to Zathria that still stood near him, “Looks like we’ll be trapped along with the person we’re trying to rescue in the first place.”
He didn’t dwell on it further, working in concert with the woman that collapsed an obstacle in the way. He unleashed a wave of the Force at the infected that managed to still cross. Sevrin stepped back into the bunker but he couldn’t assist with the doors just yet. The horde was too large to block off with barriers, many of them coming over.
Sevrin released another wave with the Force in an attempt to send a few stragglers back, hoping to hold them until the doors closed. He had to conserve his stamina and he focused on only tossing them back instead of actively engaging them. The numbers were too great to warrant drawing out his saber.