J'orir the Reviver (Maturity Warning: Violence)

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J'orir47
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Joined: Wed Dec 04, 2019 12:54 pm

J'orir the Reviver (Maturity Warning: Violence)

Post by J'orir47 » Thu Dec 12, 2019 1:49 pm

J’orir The Reviver

Tatooine, Pitch of night

J’orir had spent the last five days travelling alone in the harsh desert. He slept in caves and outcroppings during the day, and moved at night. He had chosen to move at through the darkness primarily on foot to avoid potentially being seen by his quarry and to avoid the harsh Tatooine suns that baked the planet. It was not a glamorous life. Shitting in holes, subsisting on filtered muddy water he dug with his hands to save the clean water he had packed for an emergency. Small animals that he captured were often eaten raw to avoid creating a heat signature or a smoke trail that might attract unwanted attention. The dark was his friend, and a great source of comfort for a Mandalorian that was taught to fight from the shadows. An ugly life to be sure, but a life he would not trade for all the credits in the galaxy. It is all he has ever known, and to him, being in the elements and roughing it was a source of relief for a hardened warrior rather than a burden. A challenge to be embraced and overcome.

He had been given a contract to take out a former Imperial Colonel turned slaver on the planet of Tatooine. A contract, he took with some enjoyment. Having no particular love for either Imperials or enslavers. Colonel Korlen Lionne, by all accounts, was a right bastard. A mass murderer during the Galactic Civil War. A man who delighted in the use of torture and examples to keep his “subjects” in line during the Imperial Occupation of Tatooine. He took what he wanted and did as he pleased, even amongst other Imperial Officers he was reviled, but as is often the case, people like him have a habit of being able to thrive in the politics that permeate military command.

In the late hours, he had finally stumbled upon a small compound. Upon finding an elevated position, he took out his macro-binoculars and surveyed the defenses. As he expected, the defenses were light in large part due to his own efforts. J’orir had left a trail of broken bodies and summarily executed slavers after he was done “plying” them for information on the Colonel and his location. One by one, he picked the straggling slavers off as they trailed into the desert with a fresh catch of new slaves. A moderate caravan leading into the desert in a single line made for an easy trail for J’orir to follow.

In surveying the compound, he noticed two guards wearing mismatched stormtrooper armor on an old water tower, watching the horizon for threats in opposite directions. Given the potential collateral damage that might incur, he knew that he could not leave them alive and risk being seen as he approached the compound walls. Putting away the macro-binoculars, he pulled forth his suppressed rife, checked the power cells, and zeroed in the scope. His crosshairs drifted over the targets, settling on the one in a dirty stormtrooper helmet. With one smooth motion, he fired a single shot. He watched as the shot landed between the pieces of armor hitting the target in the dark synthweave patch between the helmet and chest plate. The target dropped swiftly; his vocal cords severed by the killing shot through his throat. However, the crash of the body hitting the tower, alerted the other guard. Expecting this, J’orir immediately put his crosshair over the armored human without a helmet. He fired another singular shot, and watched as the shot hit him directly in the right eye, boring a gnarled hole through his face and head, before he too collapsed to the ground, arm hanging over the edge of the tower, blood seeping over the edge.

After firing the last shot, J’orir laid there for a few minutes. Waiting and listening to see if the base had been alerted. Once he was satisfied that was not the case, he stood up, slung his rifle over his back and quickly traversed down the embankment towards the compound walls. Once there he fired a grappling hook at the tower, hooking it on the bar guard around the tower, checked that the line was taught, and heaved himself over the wall, with a quiet shuffle as his feet hit the ground on the other side. Removing his suppressed blaster pistol, he carefully crouched and made his way over to the main building hiding in a corner away from the entrance. As he peeked around the corner, he noticed two guards standing on opposite of the droids. One of the guards, put his finger to his ear,

“Understood. We’ve lost contact with TK-397 and TK-205. I will go and check on them, I am sure it is just another comms malfunction.”
The guard started walking towards J’orir’s position. As the guard neared the corner, he activated the two pronged, serrated vibroblades in his left bracer, and quickly shot out from behind cover, driving his blades into his jaw with such force that the target was lifted several inches from the ground as the blades pushed through the roof of his mouth and out the top of his skull, killing him instantly. Simultaneously, J’orir aimed his pistol at the second trooper just as he turned and fired two shots to his sternum and one to his head, dropping him.

Bringing his arm with the dead guard on it forward and down in one swift motion, and with the assistance of gravity, J’orir pulled back his arm allowing the guard to slide off his blades and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Retracting his blades back into his bracer, he moved towards the door of large building in front of him.

As he quietly pushed the door open to what appears to be a warehouse of sorts, J’orir would not be prepared for the sight that would greet him. In cages, he’d find what appeared to be about 40 or so slaves, mixed between Humans, Zabraki, and Twi’leks, chained and kept in close confinement. The floors slick with vomit, urine, and fecal matter. The sounds of cries and moaning, from the children and sick and weak. The stench, it permeated everything. Even the inside of his helmet in the smell, he found all the smells a body can produce, and the unmistakable stench of decaying corpses. His eyes watered, he slightlu gagged for a moment before he regained his composure and looked at the horrified wide eyes staring at him. He showed them the palm of his hands as a way to try and placate their fears and show them he was not a threat to them, and quickly transitioned to a single finger over the place where his lips would be to inform them to be silent.

He looked about the room for an access terminal. In the center between the cages, he found what he was looking for. He hurriedly moved over to the terminal, removing a small datapad from a pouch on his utility belt and pulled a line out of the datapad and connected it to the terminal. With a few presses of the buttons, the decryption program was activated, and the cage doors quickly opened with a quiet ‘swoosh’ and released the force cuffs chaining them to the floors and walls. Some slaves crawled, some had to be dragged out, but no one came out of those cages the same person they went in as. After the slaves had cleared the cages, he cradled a sickly child in his right arm as he lead them outside.

Through the helmet, J’orir’s quiet voice spoke to them, the first friendly voice they have heard in weeks or months.

“You should be safe out here. Here, take my water and rations.” He handed them all he had, “It’s not much, distribute it amongst the weak, children, and sick first.” “There are two dead bodies here. Check them over for additional food and water. There are two bodies on top of the old water tower as well. I’d check them too.”

J’orir, stared at the ragged group, “I am here to kill the man who did this to you. I will be back.” He turned to head back into the warehouse, as he passed by the cages again, he noticed the dead and decaying bodies laying still where they were chained to the floor. Their grayish, insect infested, bloated corpses, laying there. A bitter reminder that had he been there sooner, they might still be alive. He pushed through the double doors, which opened to a dimly lit atrium. When he entered, he heard what sounded like three people laughing and talking, disgusted, he went to the darkened back wall, climbing one of the beams, he leaped quietly from beam to beam, following the source of the sounds. He noticed a light near the last beam and made his way there. As he landed on top of the crossbeam, he looked down to see a room lit by torches. His quarry sat upon a throne, more than likely a war trophy, surrounded by food. Flanked by two men laughing.

He subvocalized, utilizing an encrypted communications system attached to his vocal cords and the movement of his mouth and allowed the person on the other end to hear him clearly without him making a single audible sound in his current environment.

“I have located the target. Moving in for the kill now.”

<comm> “Understood. Payment will be wired once proof of completion is submitted.”

Crouched on the crossbeam, J’orir pulled out his blaster with his right hand and with his left his equipped his lasso gun. He aimed at the first guy furthest away and facing him and fired. The shots catching him in the chest and dead center of his face. The guy closest to him turned just in time to catch a shot to the right shoulder and a mortal wound to the gut. The man moaned in extreme pain, J’orir saved the blaster bolt, he knew he’d be dead in a minute or two.

The Colonel, turned to run, and J’orir took aim with his lasso gun, and it wrapped around Colonel Lionne’s neck, causing him to shout in fear and desperation. J’orir then jumped from the crossbeam causing the cord to become taught over the beam and lifted the Colonel a couple feet into the air, his feet failing to touch the ground. J’orir then sliced the cable with his vibro bracer, holding onto the line, he tied it around a hole in the beam causing the Colonel to hang there.

The Mandalorian slowly and deliberately circled to be in front of Colonel. He came within feet of the Colonel, staring at him through his dark T-visor. J’orir watched the man. Watched as his hands wrapped around the cable trying to pull himself up so that he might get a breath of air or two. His feet searching for ground that isn’t there. He watched as the Colonel’s eyes became bloodshot as the capillaries burst from pressure and constriction, eyes searching and hoping for a mercy that he never showed anyone else.

J’orir didn’t say anything, he walked towards the door a few feet. Before turning to face the struggling Colonel. With that, he aimed his blaster pistol and fired four shots in quick succession. The shots obliterated both the Colonel’s knees and elbows. They dangled loosely from his body, bits of bone and flesh revealed as he gasped for breath like a fish on a line. J’orir wondered if in this moment, he regretted the life he lived. If maybe in those final moments he felt bad. He watched as he continued to writhe in agony, he watched as he suffered pain beyond description, watched as the Colonel realized that hope was gone, and help would never come, and he watched as the Colonel took his last breath before being satisfied. He took a picture with his helmet, and sent the holo to his client, momentarily he heard a ding, letting him know that the credits had been wired to his encrypted account.

J’orir emerged from the building to face the slaves, and let them know that the Colonel would never bother them or anyone else again. For the slaves, it was bittersweet. The monster was dead, but they would never get back what the Colonel took from them. J’orir then scavenged the compound for food, water, medicine, and valuables and credits for the slaves.

As the slaves rested, and healed as much as they could, he went in and retrieved the bodies of their fallen comrades and buried them. Allowing, the slaves to have a small ceremony in their honor.

When he was certain the survivors were stable. He pulled up his bracer and called in his ship. It was a tight fit, and several of the slaves had panic attacks as they were reminded of the cramped horror they just escaped from. In a short time, they managed to fly into Mos Eisley Starport.

Upon unloading them all from the ship, he removed his helmet and spoke to them one last time,

“I extend an offer to each one of you.” He said, as he handed an information chip to the de facto leader of the former slaves.

“I will secure you safe passage to the planet Mandalore where you will train to be a Mandalorian. Dedication to the Mandalorian way of life is hard. Your training will be severe, unforgiving, and dangerous. But if you commit, you will be rebuilt the personification of strength, you will receive support, be adopted into a clan and you will gain a family that will gladly lay down their lives for you. You will never be a victim again, but another pillar upon which, together, we will rebuild our people.”

“On this chip, you will find information to a Mirialan smuggler. She can be trusted; she has done this many times before. She will get you to where you need to go if you should choose to become a Mandalorian. There is also enough money on there to get cleaned up, and get clean clothes. My advice: Get off this planet as soon as you can, blend in, and whatever you do, don’t tell others you were slaves. Whichever life you choose, I wish you luck; but I hope to see you all again, as fellow Mandalorians.”

They watched as the mysterious Mandalorian put his helmet back on, and quietly turned to walk back up the ramp of his ship. They watched as he lifted into the sky and flew away towards the sunset.

In his cockpit, the Mandalorian thought quietly, glad that he was able to help them, possibly give them a new life, and bit by bit, rebuild the Mandalorian people to the prominence they had before the Mandalorian Wars. His greatest ambition.

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