Hoth's Open Terrain

Oddly enough the deeper beneath the surface they travelled, the warmer it got, almost as if the planet’s rich reserves of thermal energy were being vented through the tunnel system. They moved slow and methodical, the gamorrean boar not wanting to plummet into anymore pitfalls, his old bones could only handle so much punishment. He moved the flaming head of the vibro-lance from side to side, lighting the way ahead of them while casting sinister shadows on the icy cavern walls. The crew struck close together, nervous in the dark depths, trusting to the large pig man to keep them safe. Bey snorted in amusement, for he knew he might as well have come alone. After fighting tooth and nail to escape a rakghoul outbreak in Taris’ Under City, a trip down a scary tunnel in the dark was practically a walk in the park.

He checked a device held in his palm, it blipped and bleeped every now and then, causing him to change direction. That usually meant descending deeper. Further cause to be disconcerted was the fact that the number of bones beneath their feet was quickly increasing. The discarded bits of animal debris crunched under the treat of their booted feet, announcing their presence to whatever might be living in the tunnel system. Bey doubted the worms that had carved the tunnels were still around, but you never knew, they could still be lurking somewhere in these depths. He bent down and picked up what looked like an old claw, worn from digging in the ice but not sharp. It had probably belonged to a tauntaun, though he doubted they would be found living so far beneath the surface. More likely the bones had been brought here by whatever had eaten the beast.

Bey returned to his feet and kept walking. If the device he was using to detect traces of collapsium was to be believed, they were getting closer. In fact, as he turned the next corner the device went wild.

I think this is it. He said, turning back to offer the six brave ewoks that had followed him down into the icy depths a fat grin. Bey then turned back around to face the way he was going, when out of the gloom a large white fur covered hand covered in curved razor sharp claws swept out and nearly took his head off.

It took the better part of a half hour for Bey to recover. He sat there on the frigid ground and held a piece of cloth torn from his apron to his face, staunching the flow if blood from his wound. In the frozen chamber nothing stayed liquid for long, however, and soon the thick red liquid crystallized, allowing him to remove the applied pressure and get back to his feet. No one else in the party had suffered any wounds, which was fortunate as well as irritating, at least to Bey. It meant no one else had taken the sort of risk he had, though he supposed that was to be expected. They were small and he was big. Such was the way of things.

After regaining his composure, he picked up the scanning device he had been using to track the collapsium deposit, finding himself delighted that it was still in operation. He pressed a few buttons on the device and restarted the scanning sequence, only to have the device blip and beep as it had before, minus taking a Wampa claw to his face. Almost right in the spot where he had spilled the creature’s innards was a massive reading of collapsium, blind to the naked eye but there to see on the scanner’s screen below the surface of the ice. Bey picked up his communicator and radioed the ship, asking for the equipment they needed to extract the precious resource and giving detailed instructions where to find it. He wouldn’t be staying. As far as he was concerned, the rest of the crew was more than capable of handling this part of the mission. There were thick muscular boars for security, tynnans for skilled labour, and ewoks for everything else. His job was done.

You did good, my boy. Said the spirit of Greer Kahn through the spear held in Bey Kahn’s hand. I am proud of you, son.

Another time on another world and that would have been all the praise Bey could have ever asked for. Too much had changed; however, and the kind words of his biological father didn’t fill the old boar with much of anything. If his adopted father had offered that sort of praise, maybe he would have felt something more. But Sloan was dead, and he wasn’t, so there it was.

When the followup team arrived Bey returned to the surface, first seeing to the apothecary on the ship to deal with the wound to his face. He was told that a layer of synthflesh could be applied now to prevent any permanent scarring, yet he refused, preferring to display his new scar as a symbol of pride as well as a reminder to the rest of the crew the length he was prepared to go for their benefit. It also gave him a semi-sinister appearance that might do well with the ladies, not that he was seeking any form of romantic engagement. At his age he was well beyond that. It was too late to start a family and squeeze out a few piglets of his own.

Finally when he departed the medbay he ran into old Graybeard who was waiting patiently out in the hall. The wizened wok of too many years to count leaned heavily on a staff of Pzobian oak, seared black in places by a ritual they had performed recently on Juvex. In fact the staff hadn’t originally belonged to the ewok shaman, but rather to a gamorrean one, who hadn’t survived said ritual. Graybeard fell into pace with Bey Kahn as he walked down the hall, which was arguably more of an impressive feat for the smaller fur covered sentient.

“I heard you killed an ice beast.” Croaked Graybeard, breathing heavy as he tried to keep up with the younger but still not quite young gamorrean they all called captain.

Aye. Said Bey, and that was all that he said due to the fatigue he was feeling.

“I was hoping to collect some of its….” Started Graybeard, only to be quickly interrupted by Bey.

Take what you want, gramps. I only want the hide. I think I’ve earned myself a new coat after everything that has happened today.

Graybeard nodded and didn’t reply. He was beginning to get a better understanding of the gamorrean smith’s temperament that he knew not to push him on the subject. Besides, all he really wanted was the creature’s teeth. Bey hadn’t said anything about those.

Location: Hoth's Southern Hemisphere - Lack of Faith II Basecamp

Outside the ship things were proceeding as planned. A team of ewoks operated the mining rig that was carefully extracting the collapsium deposit beneath the surface of the camp, while tynnans configured seismic charges from the available spare parts aboard the ship. They wouldn't be as fancy as something you'd buy from a dedicated weapons merchant, but they would sure as hell give that space slug they were hunting a run for its credits. Ewoks on tauntauns scouted out the surrounding vicinity but so far there had been no sign of the illusive abominable snowoks the crew had spoken of.

Deeper still, within one of the lower holds of the vessel that the old boar had turned into a crafting area, the hammering of metal could be heard. Bey Kahn sweated over a hot forge, banging away on an anvil with the smithing hammer his adoptive father Sloan Skirata had gifted him so long ago. Thick muscles strained as the hammer came down repeatedly, transforming metal into something useful, in this case being a large harpoon. In fact, there were several of the crafted spears leaning up against the wall of the hold, waiting to be sharpened when the gamorrean had time. Sparks exploded with every hammer blow, showering harmlessly against his thick apron.

This set was a trickier lot. Originally the harpoons had been intended to pierce the thick hide of an exogorth, but it had been George who had suggested that the spears be hollowed out so that they could be packed with baradium. Bey saw the reasoning in this. The seismic charges they were making would help rouse the slug and clear the asteroid field of debris, while the explosive packed harpoons would kill the creature. It made sense since the Lack of Faith II lacked weaponry outside of a couple of dual laser cannon turrets, which most definitely would not pack enough punch to kill the slug, let alone stop any asteroids that came in their path.

A launcher was installed at the head of the ship, just behind the massive boar's head that served as ornamentation for the vessel. The setup was simple, basically a glorified spear chucker with a winch for pulling things closer. The gamorrean crew members carried the heavy bits while tynnans worked on bolting the harpoon launcher in place. Mind you, some one would need to be out on the open deck in the middle of the asteroid field to operate the launcher, but Bey had already prepared himself for that. He had accepted the job on behalf of the crew, which meant he would be the one to assume that risk. A large space suit was being mended from several smaller suits by a team of ewok maidens and gamorrean sows. It wouldn't be pretty but it would be functional.

Bey continued to hammer away into all hours of the night. They were so close.

When the last of the camp was all packed up, repulsors whined and the Lack of Faith II lifted out of the snow, gently gliding over the frigid landscape as it began to pick up speed and accelerate towards the open sky. Rather than be on the bridge for takeoff, Bey Kahn found himself roaming the halls of the lower decks, smoking a fat stogey while he headed towards his personal cabin. He could feel the vibrations in the hull as the ship took off, a light buzzing in the soles of his feet. The old boar peered out the nearest porthole and looked down at the snowy expanse they were leaving behind. In the distance he thought he could make out a collection of figures, but that had to be impossible, right? He stared as hard as his beady little eyes would allow, then stopped, mouth agape. The cigar fell from his open lips and hit the floor, rolling down the hall.

There had been talk amongst the crew since the start of this venture about a lost tribe of ewoks, most commonly referred to as abominable snowoks. Like any honest skeptic, Bey had categorically denied that such creatures could exist, yet Chestnut had claimed repeatedly that the information about the collapsium deposit had come from one such creature. The ewok had even contended that at least one of the creatures had once been a member of the crew, though that was even harder to believe.

Yet there in the distance, seated atop a tauntaun, was what appeared to a be an ewok with snow white fur and horns sprouting out of its head, waving a spear back and forth as though to say "safe travels". Bey looked around the corridor for someone else to be a witness, but he was alone, with no one to tell save himself. Who would even believe him? The figure dropped out of sight as the Lack of Faith II ascended through the clouds and headed for the upper atmosphere.

...Grimfang watched them go.

Paws outstretched to catch the blanket, but given the size it ended up draped over Tarfang like a table cloth, causing him to stumble around for a moment. Pulling the blanket off his head and around his body, he approached the boarding ramp and shivered as the cold air hit, before looking back at the X-34 and nodding with Mal's assessment.

"You're right." He tapped the speeder's hood with his cane. "She wasn't built for this kind of weather. But tauntauns..."

He seemed to recall the last time he had tried to ride one it had taken a nip out of his furry rump. He rubbed at his tushy. He still had a bald patch of fur in that spot.

Tarfang took a step further down the ramp and looked around the frozen terrain, acknowledging the natural danger, not to mention what they couldn't see. Scowling, he reluctantly conceded to the Mandalorians suggestion.

"Yeah, I suppose we won't get far without them." He looked back at Mal's tools and waddled over to a coil of rope, taking it off the rack and slipping it around one shoulder. He approached the ramp again and looked from his companion back out to the cold. "We should also keep an eye out for ice beasts. Believe it or not, I have a cousin who calls Hoth home and he says they are a pretty common sight this time of year."

"Mal!" Cried Tarfang as he watched the Mandalorian get flung to the snow at the other Wampa's feet. He shook off the blanket he was wearing and reached to his hip, drawing his sawed off bryar-pistol in the breadth of a second. A furry index digit pulled the trigger thrice in rapid succession.


Three blaster bolts struck the back of the initial ice beast that attacked his companion, sizzling as they contacted its chalk white fur, but seeming to do little else. It turned in response, fixing the elderly ewok with a hungry stare as it moved towards him, raising a clawed hand above its horned head and prepared to carve Tarfang into meaty bits. Closing his good eye, the retired captain whispered a final prayer to the Great Tree.

Looks like this is where he'd meet his end, far from his home village and what few friends he had left. He wished he could have shared a drink with his old pal Endor one last time, maybe even listened to that same stupid joke he loved to tell. Overall he supposed it had been a good life. He had definitely seen more of the galaxy than any other ewok could have claimed to. His only regret was that he never got to avenge his crew, but it seemed he would never get the chance.

After a few seconds, he opened his eye, surprised to find he hadn't been turned into chop-suey at this point. Instead as he looked up, he saw the wampa stumbling back, a long shaft of what looked like wood was embedded in the shoulder of the arm it had held up. He heard thumping footsteps and something large and bipedal raced past. If he didn't know any better he would have said it was a tauntaun, with what looked like a white furred rider on its back, not much taller than Tarfang himself. As fast as it appeared it was gone again, vanishing into the blizzard. More stomping followed, and a second racing beast actually leapt over the cowering ewok, joined by several more. The wampa shrieked as its body appeared to be peppered with spear shafts, to the point where it crashed down into the snow. The beast standing over Mal appeared to be suffering the same treatment, only from the opposite direction, as white furred riders tossed spears at the ice beast's backside before racing off and vanishing into the storm.

Mustering his courage, Tarfang crawled over to the first felled wampa, and took hold of one of the shafts sticking out of its chest. Gripping the wood with both paws, he grunted and pulled with all his might, freeing the spear. The tip appeared to have been crafted out of some kind of ice, now glistening red with the wampa's blood on it. The second beast, still towering over Mal, appeared to be faring better despite having a half dozen shafts sticking out of its back. Raising the spear over his shoulder, the elderly ewok took aim at the wampa and threw the spear with all his might.

Unfortunately, an Olympian he was not. Instead of striking the chest of the ice beast drooling over Mal, the spear struck the ground next to him, embedded in the snow near the Mandalorian's hand.

In response, Tarfang raised his paw as well and mirrored the white furred rider's gesture and statement. "Yub yub." The rider swung a leg over the side of the tauntaun's saddle and slipped down to the snow, crouching slightly as its furry feet hit the ground, then rising to stand equally with the retired captain. They pretty much were the exact same height, save for the fact that the snowy ewok's horns gave it an extra few inches. Striding forwards, the white furred ewok extended a paw to Tarfang, who reached out with his own and grasped it in what appeared to be a greeting of familiarity. The two spoke back and forth in ewokese for a moment, with the elderly 'wok gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder at the Mandalorian, before turning around a moment later to explain things to Mal.

"This is the cousin I was telling you about, Grimfang." A few more tauntaun riders emerged from the blizzard, forming a protective circle around Mal and Tarfang, using their tauntauns to block some of the wind. Tarfang continued. "They're part of a lost tribe of ewoks that call this area home, although they prefer to be referred to as the abominable snowoks."

Two more of the white furred snowoks slipped from their saddles and exchanged greetings with Tarfang. He introduced them in turn as well.

"This is Redclaw and Icetooth." He looked back at Grimfang and the two exchanged more words. "Chooba jama, adento? Ah, moochi yab dunna."

Several more snowoks appeared and began to attach ropes and hooks to the two wampa carcasses. A growl sounded as two large snow bears emerged from the blizzard, each harnessed and connected to a wooden sled covered in furs. After a few exchanged words, Tarfang turned to Mal and explained.

"Grimfang says he knows where we can find the collapsium and he'll even help us get to it, but they need our help with something first. Well, more your help really." He said with a chuckle. "That's what you get for being so good at killing things, I guess. First we need to take shelter from the storm. They seem to think it will pass by the morning. They've got a cave nearby where we can weather it out until then."

A chuckle escaped Tarfang's throat as he watched Mal stare at the stew, no doubt trying to discern exactly what they were eating. The elderly ewok, who stood in stark contrast to the snowoks with his greying chestnut coloured fur, sat down beside the mandalorian and quickly shoveled a spoonful into his hungry mouth.

"It's tauntaun." He stated, then pointed at the mounts roped off further in the cave. "They don't just ride them apparently. It's no boarwolf, but it'll fill your belly better than a mouthful of snow. Har har har." He slapped his knee as he jested, then winced, immediately regretting striking the tender joint. Grimfang walked over, carrying a bowl in one paw and a full bladder skin in the other, before sitting down around the fire next to them. He took a swig from the skin and then handed it to Tarfang, who followed suit. The old captain coughed, pounding his chest as he struggled to down the strong liquid. He handed the skin to Mal next before explaining. "Try this. Fermented wampa milk. Be careful though, it's strong." He continued to cough as though proving his point.

Grimfang stared at Mal, curious about the armoured warrior. Like all the snowoks, save one who used to be a member of Tarfang's crew, he had spent his entire life on Hoth. They were a primitive people, much like the ewoks they had evolved from, but they had as keen an intelligence as most sentient species. The chief, or whatever title Grimfang held, signed with his hands as he spoke in heavily accented ewokese, doing his best to explain the situation. Tarfang listened quietly whilst continuing to shovel stew into his mouth. After about two minutes time the snowok stopped speaking and looked from Tarfang to Mal expectantly. The captain nodded and looked at Mal.

"Grimfang says the tribe is at war with another group known as the Skel, natives to Hoth about as well equipped and numerous as the snowoks. They've been fighting over these caverns and the fungus that grows inside of them, which is one of their primary food sources. They've been able to hold their own until recently. It seems the Skel are now being led by a shaman who controls a dragon slug." He held out his arms as wide as he could. "A giant creature that..." He paused and looked back at Grimfang. "Achoocha?" The snowok nodded, and Tarfang continued in basic. "According to Grimfang here, it breathes fire. They seem to think your armour will protect you against the beast. They want you to kill it." He scratched his furry chin. "We'll probably need to kill the shaman to."

If one thought a Krayt Dragon was loud, it had nothing on the snoring of the snowoks. All throughout the cavern as the snowy bear people settled in for the night, the primitive race seemed to saw logs in their sleep, the noise echoing throughout the fire warmed cave. It must have been a genetic trait they shared with the species they had evolved from, as Tarfang was just as loud if not noisier. The elderly captain rested his head on a provided bedroll on the opposite side of the fire from Mal, occasionally eliciting a chest rattling cough in his sleep, before rolling over onto his other side only to do the same thing a few minutes later. While they slept, the females of the tribe returned from their hunt, entering the cave mouth.

The thing to know about abominable snowoks, is that they are all male. They were a hybrid race created through the mating of a male ewok with a female wampa. Which meant...

Towering bloody clawed ice beasts casually entered the cavern, strode by the fire, and headed further into the cave system. Unlike the snowoks they were as quiet as field-ranats as they walked through, leaving only indents in the icy floor as their claws pricked the surface.

Night turned to day and the storm outside passed as expected. When Mal awoke, he would find Tarfang speaking to Grimfang near the cave of the mouth where a dozen tauntauns were being fitted with saddles. The old pirate appeared almost as white as the snowok chief, now wearing a coat made from wampa fur. He squinted with his good eye as he noticed the mandalorian rising and waved to him, holding up a furry bundle intended for Mal.

"They made us coats from the ones we killed yesterday." He performed a spin, nearly tripping on his cane before regaining his balance. "Very warm, if you don't mind the smell. Although that's probably the tauntauns."

One of the mounts turned its head as though it understood what the ewok had said, and huffed a plume of steam at Tarfang.