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crux_fleet2014-03-02 01:20 am
crux_npcs) wrote in crux_fleet2014-03-02 01:20 am
THE BLACK EYE OF SHAREF: FINALE
Who: Big Bee'eef Slabthrust, Eye of Sharef Defenders
Where: The Eye of Sharef
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: Language, violence, metal
"My, you're in a bit of a pickle."
Bee'eef Slabthrust whirled. It was bad enough that the turkeys aboard the station had managed to humiliate his gang, now some bint was sneaking up on him? He narrowed his eyes at her. At twelve feet tall, she managed to look him in the eyes. An impressive feat for a female, but what pissed him off was that she managed to get past his guards and slip up behind him.
Didn't look bad, though. Impressive tusks.
Still, he narrowed his eyes. "What's it to you, scant?"
He was answered with a breezy laugh, her face covered by a fan that was there one minute, gone the next. He didn't have the time to ponder this, however, as she stepped forward and slid an arm around his shoulder. "Your poor gang. Humiliated." Suddenly, she was just on his opposite side, causing him to jerk. "Decimated. You would have had the run of this place too, if it weren't for... Well." She gestured in front of them, towards the direction of the station's survivors.
"Dem. They wrecked my gang!" He clenched his hands into fists, grinding his teeth together.
"Yesss." She chuckled softly into his ear. "Them. The 43rd Scutum-Crux Fleet. The Confederacy of Inhabited Systems. CIS scum. Tiny people with tiny souls who think they can run everything. What do they know of Big Bee'eef Slabthrust and the Jagtooth Clan? How can they know the hard life of the space roads? Look at them. They're like..." All of a sudden, she was on his other side again, hissing in his ear. He heard her voice on his opposite side, and when he tore his gaze from her to look at where she might be, there she was again. "Ants. Don't you think so? Little tiny bugs. Pinch, pinch, pinching at your pride?" She made pinching gestures with one hand, then snapped her teeth audibly.
Bee'eef started breathing hard and heavy, seeming to swell a bit. "Yeah. Ants! Dey're ants and dey hurt my boyz!"
"You should make them hurt."
"Yeah. YEAH! I'm gonna fuck them pinkskins up! Gonna get dem for my boyz!" The clan leader took a step and the ground shook. The merchant stalls (when had they gotten so small?) shuttered and some collapsed. He could feel heat licking from between his lips, and his reflection revealed flames roaring in his mouth. How long had he been able to do that?
Didn't matter. What mattered was smashing some puny ants, making them pay for fucking with his gang.
The scant was laughing, he could hear it echoing in his ears, but it didn't matter. After he'd gotten some payback, he'd teach her a thing or two
* * *
The heavy stomping would be the first clue that something was wrong. The very floor vibrated under their feet. Then, from around the corner, near the ceiling, was the tip of a pompadour. Almost thirty feet of hair preceded the giant, fury-filled face of a now-gigantic Big Bee'eef Slabthrust. Flames streamed from his nose and mouth as he roared, and then fixated his gaze on a hastily-thrown together barricade, designed to keep the bikers from flying low enough to snag anyone. "FUCK YOUR SPEED BUMPS!"
He jabbed a finger at the barricade and barrels popped into existence around his wrist, circling around it until they fully encompassed it, like a deadly bracelet. And then they started spinning and spitting hot metal, despite having no visible ammunition feed. "I'M BIG BEE'EEF SLABTHRUST! I'M DE WRONG TUSKER TO FUCK WITH, SCANTS!" The shots tore through the deck plating with frightening ease, leaving gaping holes ripped through the floor, the walls, the stalls...
Somehow, somewhere, something went a little wrong.
Where: The Eye of Sharef
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: Language, violence, metal
"My, you're in a bit of a pickle."
Bee'eef Slabthrust whirled. It was bad enough that the turkeys aboard the station had managed to humiliate his gang, now some bint was sneaking up on him? He narrowed his eyes at her. At twelve feet tall, she managed to look him in the eyes. An impressive feat for a female, but what pissed him off was that she managed to get past his guards and slip up behind him.
Didn't look bad, though. Impressive tusks.
Still, he narrowed his eyes. "What's it to you, scant?"
He was answered with a breezy laugh, her face covered by a fan that was there one minute, gone the next. He didn't have the time to ponder this, however, as she stepped forward and slid an arm around his shoulder. "Your poor gang. Humiliated." Suddenly, she was just on his opposite side, causing him to jerk. "Decimated. You would have had the run of this place too, if it weren't for... Well." She gestured in front of them, towards the direction of the station's survivors.
"Dem. They wrecked my gang!" He clenched his hands into fists, grinding his teeth together.
"Yesss." She chuckled softly into his ear. "Them. The 43rd Scutum-Crux Fleet. The Confederacy of Inhabited Systems. CIS scum. Tiny people with tiny souls who think they can run everything. What do they know of Big Bee'eef Slabthrust and the Jagtooth Clan? How can they know the hard life of the space roads? Look at them. They're like..." All of a sudden, she was on his other side again, hissing in his ear. He heard her voice on his opposite side, and when he tore his gaze from her to look at where she might be, there she was again. "Ants. Don't you think so? Little tiny bugs. Pinch, pinch, pinching at your pride?" She made pinching gestures with one hand, then snapped her teeth audibly.
Bee'eef started breathing hard and heavy, seeming to swell a bit. "Yeah. Ants! Dey're ants and dey hurt my boyz!"
"You should make them hurt."
"Yeah. YEAH! I'm gonna fuck them pinkskins up! Gonna get dem for my boyz!" The clan leader took a step and the ground shook. The merchant stalls (when had they gotten so small?) shuttered and some collapsed. He could feel heat licking from between his lips, and his reflection revealed flames roaring in his mouth. How long had he been able to do that?
Didn't matter. What mattered was smashing some puny ants, making them pay for fucking with his gang.
The scant was laughing, he could hear it echoing in his ears, but it didn't matter. After he'd gotten some payback, he'd teach her a thing or two
The heavy stomping would be the first clue that something was wrong. The very floor vibrated under their feet. Then, from around the corner, near the ceiling, was the tip of a pompadour. Almost thirty feet of hair preceded the giant, fury-filled face of a now-gigantic Big Bee'eef Slabthrust. Flames streamed from his nose and mouth as he roared, and then fixated his gaze on a hastily-thrown together barricade, designed to keep the bikers from flying low enough to snag anyone. "FUCK YOUR SPEED BUMPS!"
He jabbed a finger at the barricade and barrels popped into existence around his wrist, circling around it until they fully encompassed it, like a deadly bracelet. And then they started spinning and spitting hot metal, despite having no visible ammunition feed. "I'M BIG BEE'EEF SLABTHRUST! I'M DE WRONG TUSKER TO FUCK WITH, SCANTS!" The shots tore through the deck plating with frightening ease, leaving gaping holes ripped through the floor, the walls, the stalls...
Somehow, somewhere, something went a little wrong.
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Much of his legs were scorched from the attack. They were still functioning just fine, but he had to be careful of that fire-breath. He wouldn't survive if he took too many direct blasts from it.
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