Coruscant Underworld: Survival

[Trenton Vinh]

The Pits were dreary, smelly, and hot.
Jerod moved slowly, picking through pounds of garbage and muck. His right hand picked through the junk, his left hand in the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers wrapped firmly around the handle of his slugthrower pistol.
There had been two attacks today so far, both minor ones. A trio of other Raiders had come out of nowhere, but the raiding party had taken them out quickly.
Jerod had missed the confrontation, he had been elsewhere, looking for junk.
They had been having a bad haul so far, but he had a good feeling that they would find something good soon. If not today, than tomorrow fur sure. He knew it.
He heard a familiar voice call to him, and turned to see Kurrn waving to him, calling, "Don't go off too far, Jerod!"
Jerod yelled back, "Alright." And began to trek back to the group. As soon as he crested a rather large hill of garbage, he saw them.

Cthons.

At least a hundred of them, wandering towards the group of Raiders, sniffing the air.
They hadn't spotted the party yet, and that gave them a good chance of getting away. Jerod called to the others, "Cthons to the North!"
The Raiding Party began to run the other way, but some idiot decided to fire a shot at one.
There was a terrifying scream, the Cthon equivalent of a rallying call.
At once, three dozen Cthons sprinted forwards, their arms held outwards and claws extended.
They ran about as fat as a normal human, their mottled, grey flesh pulled taut over their bones.
Jerod was in the middle of the group of retreating Raiders, and some of the people in the back were firing shots over their shoulders. Someone threw a grenade, and a trio of Cthons exploded, bits of charred flesh flying all over the place.
Jerod turned to see Kurrn being pounced on by a Cthon from behind. In the instant before it could sink its razor sharp teeth into the Zabrak's neck, Jerod's slugthrower bullet blew its head off.
Jerod's gun smoked dramatically, and Kurrn gave him a quick nod, before the pair took off again, following behind the others. Kurrn took a moment to turn around and spray his carbine, and they resumed running.
Jerod felt an ache in his side, a cramp beginning to form. He ignored the pain and kept running, his fear causing him to forget about how out of breath he was.
The Cthons followed them a short distance, before trailing off and forgetting about them. The Raiders didn't stop running until they were almost half a kilometer away.
Most collapsed onto the mucky ground, but Jerod remained standing. He bent over, palms on his knees, wheezing. Kurrn patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Thanks for the save back there. I owe ya'."
Jerod grinned half-heartedly, asking, "Any casualties?"
Everyone shook their heads in response, and he felt good. Any day that no one died was a good day to him.

[Trenton Vinh]

The bar was filled with people, most of them the raiding party, all drunk off their asses.
Jerod was amongst them, but he hadn't drank. He had a few swigs, but nothing to strong. He couldn't be distracted by the pangs of a hangover during the next day's trip to The Pits. Wersking was there, as usual, scrubbing dirty glasses with a dirtier rag, and handing out drinks to the customers.
Jerod grinned at him and raised a glass in triumph, having survived the encounter with Cthons earlier in the day.
Wersking nodded back, grinning. He had been told about the attack as soon as Jerod had returned, and admitted that he was worried about that exact thing happening.
Jerod had been shaken up, all the raiders had been, but they knew that they had to go out again. They had gotten quite a few helpful items, a few unused medical supplies, rechargeable blaster packs, and more.
With a more promising day ahead, Kurrn had offered that Jerod come along again, joking that hopefully they would be as lucky as they had been so far.
Jerod ate some food, sitting in his usual seat at the bar. He felt a mixture of worry and excitement over the upcoming trip.

[Roth Fenix]

OOC: *slaps self* wha? where am I? Did I make this place?

Ragath sat at the bar drinking his Flameout after coming in from finishing a job for one of the various unerworld "bosses" as they called themselves. Ragath sneered at the thought, they were nothing but cowards, hiring others to carry out their dirty work for them. The cantina was dimly lit, a band played in the far right corner and seductive Twi'leks danced on the stage next to them.

Ragath eyed the Twi'leks for a few more moments then turned his attention back to his drink. He drained his flameout, slammed the pay down on the table, and turned to leave the dingy cantina.

As Ragath turned around, a large, possibly drunk, human male collided with Ragath, causing the Barabel to stumble back three steps. Ragath regained his balance and snarled at the human and tried to move past him to exit, but the human stopped him with an angered look on his face, "where are you going lizard?"

Ragath shot the human a stare that would have melted the mountains of Hoth, but the large man stood there gripping Ragath's shoulder, gripping with all of his might. Ragath hissed quietly, "get your hands off of me human."

The man tightened his grip, "I don't like it when pathetic reptiles like you try to tell me what to do." Ragath saw the man reach into his jacket, "its a mistake the some rarely make again."

Ragath snarled and brought his right arm over to his left and slowly and stealthily drew his double-edged vibrodagger. He noticed a flicker of movement behind him, but kept his attention on the human, "this one will be more careful next time."

The large human laughed and drew his blaster, aiming at Ragath's head, "no, I bet you wont."

Ragath ducked under the blaster before he could fire and sliced at the mans arm with his dagger, severing his hand. The human screamed in pain, Ragath turned and narrowly jumped out of the way of a another human slashing at the Barabel with a small virbroblade. The man came back at him and slashe dat Ragath's him. He dodged the blow and grabbed the human's wrist with both hands and threw him to the ground. Ragath drew his other vibrodagger and pinned the human down on the ground with his knees. Before Ragath could continue, he was pulled off of the man by a large number of the cantina's patrons. He hissed at the man's defenders and stared at the large man whose hand he had just severed. He lay unconscious, no one bothered to help him in anyway.

Ragath sheathed his two daggers and walked back up to the bar. He took a seat next to a human male with black hair. Ragath gave him a slow nod and turned to the bartender, "another Flameout and keep them coming."

He hated this place, the scum, the posers, the crimelords, all of it.