Quoted By:
Gulping and gasping for air, you stumble back, coming to rest on a nearby support pillar. Sheathing your lightsabers, you beckon towards Trykov and B-33. “…you guys alright?”
The droid stirs. “…this unit has sustained significant extremity damage, but all critical components remain operational.”
Good. That’s…good. “Force help us if there’s more, but keep your eyes peeled-”
The Clone suddenly stiffens, and his alarm screams through the Force. “Farren, the staff-!”
…you hear nothing, sense nothing in the Force as a weight suddenly falls on your body. There is a frenzy of movement as something tears at your back, ripping apart oxygen tubes and filtration systems before slithering up your back. You barely process the alarm on your biometrics as the living weapon coils itself around the helmet and begins to <span class="mu-i">squeeze</span>.
As the first of several web-like cracks in the polycarbonate begin to appear, time slows as your hand flails wildly, searching for the snakehead.
You find it as a long, jagged crack suddenly forms, and it fights you every second of the way, hissing and biting, trying to coil around your wrist to try and strangle the blood flow from your hand.
A surge of adrenaline courses through your body as you bring the emitter of your lightsaber to the softer, pliant flesh of its mouth and jam it straight between the little monster’s fangs.
<span class="mu-i">snap-HISS!</span>
The helmet hadn’t completely broken, even if the oxygen tubing had been disconnected. As the coils of the snake loosen and fall slack, Trykov is already hurrying with a sealant. You both make fast work, sealing the cracks and re-attaching the hoses as best you can. It wouldn’t last you for more than an hour, but it’s plenty of time to get back to the <span class="mu-i">Albatross</span>…
“Grab the bodies…” You order, stumbling as a wave of vertigo suddenly assails you. Between the corpses and B-33’s recordings of your fight, this should be more than enough for an autopsy and analysis. “…both of them. The staff, the warrior…everything…we’re leaving…”
As you stand up, you suddenly find it hard to breathe. As if the snake had gotten inside of your body, and had coiled around your lungs.
You frown, then look to where the snakehead had bitten you – both when it protected its master, and how it fought you before you killed it.
Had its venom penetrated through the enviosuit?
A sudden coughing fit overtakes you, causing Trykov to run and support you. When you recover, you find your view obscured with a viscous liquid. Just before the darkness overtakes you, you dimly realize that it had been your own blood.
>>Adding to the loot...
>>Decapitated corpse of alien warrior
>>Decapitated corpse of living staff
>>Blaster/lightsaber resistant armor
>>B-33's recording of the fight
>>You have been poisoned.
>Please roll 2d8 Resilience (1d8 per Brawn)
>Best out of three.
Apologies for the delay. Struggled with how to end the fight.
