Session export: A Little Arsenal Challenge

Arx was not a planet that Druzk frequented often, but when he did, Antei Armaments was always a must-see for him. He was determined to purchase new weaponry for himself thanks to the number of credits he had saved up and made during his time away; it was time to treat himself. And it was the best timing, too! A “totally legit” little shooting competition was happening. Of course, he wouldn’t miss out on that!

The Barabel entered the weapons shop and made his rounds through the rows of weaponry. He took mental notes on what weapons to get today and what to get later. With his bit of shopping done, Druzk made his way toward the practice range, pleasantly surprised by all the weapons out in the open, begging to be used.

A dream come true.

Was that a smile on his face? No, of course not. Maybe.

“You look bored,” he called out to the Bothan as he spotted him on the bench, forcing the smile off his face. “Guess I’m the first to show up. You should’ve advertised this better.”

Having come down to Arx for a supply run to get their appendages on some shiny new gear they wandered around aimlessly until they finally found themselves within the familiar supply of Utilis Innovations.

Mex had flown over with Druzk, but in their excited rush to spend some credits they seemed to have been seperated. No matter, for they had added a new droid to their growing family. A Haxion Brood Bounty Hunter Droid to be specific, and they had already spent the morning tuning the personality and armaments to make the best friend possible.

While heading back to the ship, Mex tuned into the radio frequencies in hopes of hints on where Druzk went. Once they heard about a shooting competition, their antennae twitched in realisation - Druzk liked guns! There was a chance that’s where they went. Immediately they passed the coordinates to their new droid and had it lead the way to the range.

The droid’s heavy footfalls telegraphed their presence as they entered.

“Hi, have you seen Druzk?” they asked aloud, before coming out from behind the droid. Identifying the hard-to-miss barabel they continued. “Ok! There is Druzk.”

Making their way over, they saw that the barabel seemed engaged in dialogue already. “Is this where the shooting happens?”

The moment Tomora froze, Druzk knew something was wrong. He instinctively reached for his DL-44 and pivoted on his heel to face the other way. He lowered his blaster when he noticed Mex.

The Barabel cursed internally.

“Hope you didn’t piss your pants, Tomora,” he said jokingly. “Lower your weapon. This is a friend… and their droid?”

Even he wasn’t sure. “Mex… did you buy this thing?”

As blasters were raised, the droid went into the defensive. Positioning itself between Mex and the hostilities, the verpine almost began to panic.

“Threat level raised!” the droid called out in an aggressive tone.

Mex attempted to push out between the standoff, but the droid prevented their approach. “Hi! No! This is friend! Do not hurt! I bought today! Good price!”

“Yes, good! See. Friend. Gun range. Competition.” Mex ushered their droid to cease the defence, and after a moment of processing it complied.

“Area safe. For now.” The droid replied.

With the hostilities avoided, the verpine finally stepped in front of their droid. “Hi, I am Mex. This is Friend.” They pointed to them-self and then the hulking droid in introductions.

Of course, Mex named the droid “Friend.” They always had the weirdest names for the droids they owned. Admittedly, the name was quite amusing; Haxion Brood droids were usually far from being one’s friend.

The Barabel swiftly stowed his weapon back into its holster underneath his jacket.

“You here to participate, Mex?”

“Hi Druzk, I came to find you. Can Friend participate?” They replied to the barabel’s inquiry.

Like the easily distracted verpine they were, Mex looked at the bothan with inquisition. Walking over, Mex looked them up and down. “Hi Tomora, Your appendages have been modified. May I inspect them?”

All Mex needed to hear was an affirmative, and they got it. Immediately, they bent down and began to manipulate Tomora’s arm. They weren’t rough about it, but neither were they gentle - Mex treated the arm as any regular droid arm attempting to extend it out and and see how the mechanics worked.

Whistling back, Mex attempted to speak droid back to Doc. It was fairly well practised but not as efficient as an actual droid’s binary. Hello, Doc. Do you need assistance?

As they asked their query they continued their prodding, sticking their finger into Tomora’s wrist they watched the hydraulics react in the hand. Their antennae twitched in seeming anticipation, or just enjoying the curiosity. They slightly pulled on the arm to check its stability and connection to the wearer, and made their way up to the ball socket.

“Hi Tomora, did you create this? Composition is light and sturdy. Servos seem good - how often do you maintain?” Their tone was inquisitive and bright, it was hard to hide their passion for all things mechanical.

With Mex being backed off from continuing to mess with Tomora’s artificial arms, Druzk decided to return the subject to what really mattered: the competition.

He finally answered their question.

“I think it’s better if you participate.”

Mex finally relented as Tomora pulled their arm away. “Ok. Thank you for sharing. If you ever need work done I am interested.”

Standing up from their prone position, they looked over to Druzk as they were being addressed. “Ok. I can participate. We are not excluding Friend though.”

AJ had alerted Vince to a broadcast on his datapad. A shooting contest out in the Sorasu Desert. Though he had business to do on Arx, AJ had pointed out that he didn’t need to spend his entire time waiting for his meeting. “Have some fun for a change,” he had said. “And you better win!”

So Vince wandered the area and kept to himself for the most part. AJ wasn’t there to push him to socialize, so he felt no need to. Plus there was a tense standoff with a Haxion droid that he did not want to be a part of. Instead he checked and double-checked his pistol as he waited for the competition to start, or for someone to address him as he waited. He watched with curiosity as others started to gather. It was certainly an interesting group of competitors.

From the shooting range’s entrance, a Kiffar, Ferrerreo, and Miraluka walked into the room. The green-haired Kiffar was followed closely by a KX-series Security Droid, who had to duck to get in through the door. A large heavy blaster and a support pack was strapped to its back.

A little whistle.

“Nice set up here. Antai Armaments keepin’ it cute,” Diyrian commented, stopping to hook her thumbs on her holsters and regard those gathered already.

Naturally, her eyes gravitated towards the larger group, especially with the giant droid that dwarfed 4R-7H3R here in at least width if not height. Milling about it was a Barabel, a Bothan, and a…Verpine. She shuddered and turned her attention back to Teon and Cryo, whom she had stumbled on about an hour ago. A chance meeting she had passed by the pair and overheard a broadcast announcing a marksman’s competition. Shot her shot and goaded them into a little fun.

“Our challenge still stand? Prove who’s the better shot, aye?” the faux-Zelosian grinned, “Any hard bets?”

“The bet is on myself, of course,” Teon answered, “But I’m sure you two will perform admirably.”

The Miralukan, clad in armor whose beskar armor was composed of a medley of earthen tones, removed his helmet and ran a hand through the loose tangles of midnight tresses atop his head. While clipping his helmet to his utility belt, he shifted his attention to the new voice that addressed Diyrian. The man’s confidence in the towering droid standing off to the side stoked the flames of Teon’s competitive spirit.

“The greater the competitors, the greater the glory.”

After listening to the rules, Teon nodded to each of them before making his way to an empty shooting stand. Never one to leave home without his modified tixellated datapad, he patched into the digital sign-up sheet for the competition and entered his name into the leaderboard. After that, he unholstered his BH-4 Double Blaster and disengaged the safety.

“Things are going to go differently than the last time we tested our skills against each other, Cryo,” he announced to the woman. The two of them had developed something of a friendly rivalry since their first meeting. Two soldiers of different eras – the old and the new. She’d gotten the better of him last time, but now it was his turn to claim victory.

<@301514304845381632> <@152256842473406464>

More competitors. Good. That meant more people to take credits from. “If we’re going to make some bets, then we better talk big money. I bet on myself, by the way.”

Druzk crossed his arms as Tomora ran through the rules. It was all simple enough. He was almost getting excited.

Without another word, he walked over to a free stand, filled out his name on the leaderboard, and unholstered his DL-44, entirely focused downrange.

Leena slunk along the back, one of her lekku mildly twitching with each of the reports from the firearms. She was there mostly to watch, maybe to pick up some new toys if something caught her eye. She had fiddled with her babies for so long that she almost didn’t remember what they looked like stock. She had even given them names, much to the chagrin of her boss. She still wasn’t sure if she was being ironic or not with the names, but they suited, and she had tricked them out accordingly. Like any of her other toys, she wasn’t really done with upgrading them. She had ideas, big ideas, ideas constrained, it seemed, by credits and technology that she could not yet create on her own… which was saying a lot, considering some of the absolute shenanigans she had managed in the past.

She leaned against one of the back counters, watching the others compete with each other, with themselves. A corner of her lip went up as she watched creds change hands surrepticiously, and she wondered if betting was illegal enough here to warrant the concealment. It’s not like the Brotherhood had that sort of puritanical legal system…at least not in any of her dealings with them. She fished out a credit chit, letting it dangle between her fingers as she crossed her arms, waiting to see if any of them would notice. It might be fun to make a little coin, after all. And the Miralukan, blind as they were, was absolutely a sandbagger.

Having stepped into the range only a minute or two earlier, Jeckt watched the exchange of bets from the entrance way before slowly sauntering in. He took one long and final drag from his dying cigarette as he silently approached one of the stands. He nonchalantly flicked the smoldering stub of the cigarette to the side and added his name to the list. Turning back around, he drew a small aurodium coin from his pocket and began walking away from the group. As he did, he caught the eye of Tomora just long enough to flip the coin at him.

“Put that on the Barabel.” He said as he pulled another cigarette from a pocket on his side and continued moving away from the main group.

Jeckt turned and leaned up against a nearby wall. He let slip a small smile at Tomora’s words. “Shooting at targets ain’t really my game.” He took a drag from his cigarette and raised his holster higher on his hip. “Hopefully we don’t find out today what is.”

“He knows who’s gonna win,” Druzk called out with a smirk.

Cryo rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, amused by Teon’s confidence. She wanted to say it was unwarranted just to tease but didn’t wanna make their new companion feel left out of any inside jokes, so instead, she just smirked. “We’ll see, Teon.” Her voice was just as confident, her accent not unlike those who fought in the Clone Wars.

She turned to look at Diyrian. “Don’t mind him. He’s always like this.” She chuckled softly before reaching down for one of the DC-17s she always carried with her. She took the blaster from her thigh holster and began to fiddle with it, lowering its output by a tad to make it easier to be accurate. She went over to the board and entered her name.

Had this been a deadly encounter, Druzk would have already been blasting away. Instead, he focused on the targets as they moved to find repeating movement patterns. Unfortunately, they, indeed, seemed to be completely random… or as random as a computer can emulate. Without the advantage of knowing where precisely to aim, he led his targets and started firing.

Once the round ended, he placed his weapon against the table in front of him pointed downrange. A satisfying result, he thought, but he could’ve done considerably better.

“Yeah, this is gonna be fun. You’ve almost impressed me with this whole arrangement, Tomora!”

Vincent was notably nervous as he stepped up to the range with his personal blaster. The first two shots went a bit wide, barely clipping the targets. With a slow breath he steadied his aim and fired.

With the next few shots he fell into a steady rhythm. Muscle memory returned to unpracticed hands. His electric blue oculars focused on the targets ahead, calculating. Everything else was out of focus.

When he looked at his score afterward, he gave a small nod in acceptance. He seemed to have done well regardless of his rocky start. He glanced to the slowly filling scoreboard and nodded more enthusiastically as he looked to the other scores. “Not bad for a start. Got some tough competition.”

Jeckt pushed himself off the wall and sauntered forward. As he passed Tomora struggling with his lighter, he lifted his own and lit the cigarette for the small Bothan as he passed and then took his spot on the range. He watched the targets for a short time before he made his move.

He was here simply because upon hearing the ad, it had seemed like an amusing way to spend his day. Winning wasn’t even something on his mind, and he approached his turn with the same attitude. Using his trademark speed rather than focusing his aim, he drew his pistol from his waist and fired off several quick shots. He then gave the blaster a spin for flair and it was holstered in just over three seconds from the draw. He didn’t spend any time observing his accuracy, and instead turned and gave a nonchalant nod and small smile to the other participants before returning to his vantage point to watch the others continue to take their turns.

How a blind man intended to keep up in a shooting competition wasn’t an unreasonable question. It was one he suspected many wondered while watching him prepare to participate in the first round. The target droids floating at the end of his aisle began to zip about, flying in irregular patterns meant to make the task even more difficult.

Although they lacked the presence within the Force that living beings possessed, Teon knew how to differentiate droids from his surroundings. Within the fluctuating domain of his mind, the automatons were like tiny obstructions that the currents of the Force flowed around. Focusing on the places where these gaps in the Force’s flow were, and how they moved, allowed him to get a read on where the target droids were and where they were likely to go.

Teon raised his blaster and squeezed the trigger. Each blaster bolt sprang from the barrel without a sound. Once he was finished, the Miralukan holstered his weapon and returned to where the other contestants gathered after completing their rounds.

What started as a friendly bet with two strangers had spanned to much of the gathered competition. It added a little extra spur to competing in the challenge, more than bragging rights alone. A literally putting your money where your mouth is. But more importantly, it shared a bit about one’s character, just a taste. Diy could tell she was going to enjoy the participating folks.

She listened in on the rules, an eyebrow raising to the various rounds and weapon pairings. Certainly wasn’t expecting that, she was excited to try her hand at some more beauties than her pistol and the repeating rifle strapped on 4R-7H3R’s back. The faux-Zelosian signed up and shifted her attention from the new, mint conditioned pistols to finding an open booth for herself. While there is nothing like picking up a blemish free, barely fired gun, Diyrian had her own chrome babes. A fan of BlasTechs models, she pulled out her twin RSKF-44’s and set them in the table. Whynetta and Whyell. Well kept and near blemish free, their casings had intricate designs etched into them, roses and sabacc cards.

Blaster fire filled the space as contestants started their rounds. Deciding to keep to a single pistol, Diy grabbed Whyell and joined in. Her stance was loose, betraying her run and gun style, and she wasted little time in aiming – maybe one of the quickest, second to Jeckt here. Her bolts peppered between a couple targets, most finding some purchase, even if they were superficial, while a couple missed.

Blue-green eyes ticked over at the score sheet and gave a little grin. Not bad for the first round, could be better but eh. She holstered the gals and stepped away from the booth to indicate she was finished.

As the group of them began their firing, Mex wandered away a moment as they saw a shiny blaster component to inspect. Almost completely oblivious to the shooting behind them, Friend followed suit as part of its bodyguard protocols. Enamoured with the shiny piece, the verpine wondered what kind of cleaner got it to be so rust free - was it just a high quality part? The lens on it was immaculate, they raised it up to the light. Specks of red from the blaster fire behind reflected into their gaze.

Remembering that they were supposed to participate in the competition, Mex fumbled the part and put it down. Rushing over, they were just in time for Tomora to usher folks to the blaster crate. Stumbling in, the verpine swiped a rifle and fired at the target. They were just going through the paces, and it was a hit on the target, but not a clean score. Passing their rifle over to their droid, Friend, a second - more precise shot was fired.

“Target eliminated.” The droid called out.

Mex hopped in excitement. “Ok. Shot good, I am going to modify your servos a bit to improve aim more.” Without further delay, they pulled out a hydrospanner that they kept on their belt almost at all times and began to work on their droid. “I fix.”

Vincent was surprised he had done so well in the first round. Now to not lose the lead. He picked up an offered blaster rifle from the table – careful not to pick the E-11 as was mentioned. Though the rifle felt a bit heavy in his hands, the idea was the same. Point, fire, next target. Everything else faded to the rhythm of blaster fire.

Though his hands shook with nerves once he returned the rifle, he smiled when he saw his score on the board. Another good round. He hadn’t lost his touch.

He watched the verpine work with some interest, though he kept a distance from the droid.

Next was the blaster rifle round. Druzk had the perfect weapon for this: his recently acquired WESTAR-M5 from the very same place where this shooting competition was taking place.

With the same precision as before, he blasted the targets. The result was very much similar to the previous round.

“Could’ve done better,” he muttered to himself.

Diyrian glanced over to the human leading the charge right out the gate. She grinned and chuffed, eager to catch up and toe the line with glowing blue eyes there. Browsing the rifles in the crate, the faux-Zelosian settled on a Sonn-Blas F-11D. The feel of it was different then her pistols, obviously, but not too unlike the rifles the AEF had her train with. She spent a moment just cycling through the parts of it, giving it a look over before planting her stance and choosing to this time aim down the barrel of it.

Blaster bolts peppered across the heat waved field, striking most of her marks. Surprisingly, Diy felt this round was a smidge better than her last. Must have been damn cocky. She set the safety and rested the gun facing down range before turning to check the scores. A low whistle, they were doing well, spirits be damn.

Diyrian wasted no time holding up her left hand. She smiled and shrugged, tipping her head at the KX-series Security droid standing post near her shooting booth, her personal repeating blaster strapped on its back. “Be a bit of a waste not to pull Ol’ Brrt out, not that we can’t later of course.”

Vince kept quiet during the voting. The human had no preference, and had not handled either sniper rifles or repeaters in almost a decade. Though it was a chance to try out the big guns, he had more confidence with the TL-50.

His preference to pistols showed as the first burst went wide. The blue ring of his irises shifted slightly in hue as he focused on the next target and adjusted for kickback.

“Not bad, not bad,” he mused as he looked up to the score board after he was done.

Druzk’s eyes lit up like a child in a toy store as Tomora revealed the toys they’d all get to play with. Without hesitation, the Barabel stepped towards the large weapon with the “whole-ass fridge on your back” getup.

“For me? You shouldn’t have,” he muttered as he hefted the heavy canister to strap on his back with a grunt. “You’re gonna make me expect to get the best Life Day presents from you from now on, Tomora,” he added with a hissing laugh.

With the monstrosity of a weapon mounted securely to him, Druzk walked back over to the range. As the targets appeared, the Barabel sprayed a hail of blaster bolts downrange. Precision wasn’t his main objective here; such a weapon as this rarely touched his hands, and having the ability to just rain down hell right in front of him made his body rush with excitement.

It was fantastic. And the added sadistic laughing may have made it a bit too clear that he was having the time of his life.

And the shooter’s choice awards goes to…Repeating Blasters!

Despite already owning the beaut she intended to use, the faux-Zelosian could not help oogling the spread Tomora had unlocked. The MWC-35c was certainly a beast and – oh he’s just picking it right up like nothing. Nice. With the group selecting rifles and dispersing, Diyrian took three steps towards her stall and whistled at her droid.

“Hey, Artie! Come ‘ere!”

The tall security droid lumbered over to meet her at the booth. It halted and crossed an arm over its chest plate. “Miss Diyrian, what assistance is required?”

“The Biggun, Artie.”

“As wish.”

The fancy silver and gold plated droid proceeded to deposit first the support pack and then handed over the BlasTech T-21 to the lady. 4R-7H3R stepped back and stood waiting as Diy secured the gun to the tripod. She swiftly locked it in, closed the overcharge valve, and let loose. Bolts sprayed the field, the Kiffar much like the Barabel nearby was just having fun with it compared to accuracy. A chunk of the barrage scorching the sandy earth around the droid targets. A warning beep alerted that the pressurized energy was reaching max. Nimbly, she thumbed a switch on the side and fired a single over-powered shot that ate through the left abdomen of a holo projection.

The tripod creaked quietly when she stepped back and let it point at the floor and down range. Smoke curled from its tip, and she leaned down to turn on the cooling system of the support pack before turning away from it. Diy patted the KX-series droid on the forearm as she walked by.

“Gonna leave it for a few. Pick it up later, okay.”

The affirmative came in a quiet stare.

The adrenaline high from the heavy weapon in his grasp made him want more. Fortunately for the Barabel, Antei Armaments had that covered—and more. As Druzk unequipped the heavy ensemble that would have made any lesser being topple, he scanned over the display within the crate. The selection was unsurprisingly vast, and as much as he wanted to try every piece of deadly machinery, he had to pick one for the round.

That one.

To many, what Druzk pulled from the crate may have been confused for any standard heavy sniper rifle. But to the informed, it was a T-7 ion disruptor rifle: highly illegal across the galaxy and capable of puncturing through starship hulls. When shot at a group of organic beings, the results were disastrous, to say the least. He glanced at Tomora.

“You’re making it hard for me not to karkin’ kiss you right now.”

With weapon in hand, he returned to the range, settled on a target, and fired off an ionizing blast. It wasn’t a bullseye, but that wouldn’t have mattered if this had been a real target. The bolt unceremoniously flickered through the hologram and slammed into the sand behind, creating a nearly perfect hole that traversed meters deep.

Jeckt had taken his time on each round before, but this time he was up in a hurry. He peered into one of the crates and removed a DX-2 disruptor pistol before grinning like a child on their birthday. He removed his own pistol and tried to fit this new one into his holster. It fit. Mostly. It was a bit awkward, but he drew it beautifully with the fluidity and speed he was accustomed to and fired it down range a single time, this time actually making a concerted effort to land the shot where he wanted. He spun the pistol on his fingertip before placing it back into the crate. Still grinning, he turned to Tomora and said: “We may need to work out some business later.

Vincent whistled in awe at the power of the disruptor rifle. Though he was terrified to try it himself, he had to admit it packed quite a punch. As he perused the weapons on display, he chose to go for the safer choice.

“Never used a bowcaster in my life. Might as well take a shot with it.” He took steady aim with the weapon, and was surprised by how balanced it felt in his hands. Another good round under his belt, but he seemed apprehensive as he looked to the next round. Slugthrowers. He hadn’t touched one in years. Maybe his luck would continue. Maybe it had run out.

Diy grabbed one of the oddest looking weapons she saw. A Ren Arm Cannon it was called. It looked like it came straight from a droid arm! Heftier than anything she had carried before, the faux-Zelosian did need to help hold it up with her other hand. She mimed aiming it around for a moment, not imagining herself as one of them big old combat droids, before setting it down and checking the triggers and do-dads. Confident with her understanding of the cannon, she slid that baby back on and started spraying.

Once again rapid fired bolts laid into the holo projections, even more accurately than her last time round. Pleased with that show, she flipped a switch and flicked her arm at the next target – releasing another overpowered compressed shot to the chest area. A celebratory hoot escaped her in giddiness.

“Hot damn! I might just need to–” Diyrian paused as she realized while firing she saw sand be vaporized. The woman leaned around her both and grinned at the Barabel standing there. “Is that, a disruptor rifle? Karking amazing.”

Considering the blaster rounds went relatively alright for Mex, they handed their experimental blaster to Friend to place back into the box. As Tomora got the next batch of weaponry ready, Mex chose the first one they could find - a Striker.

They weren’t totally unfamiliar with slugthrowers, but they disliked using them. Loud, they often made their auditory receptors feel uncomfortable for some time after. As the slugfire began, Mex jumped a moment, before running to the range, shooting their shot and quickly darting away from the carnage, activating the safety before tossing the Striker onto a table haphazardly to go and cover their antennae.

Friend watched as the Verpine retreated, it quickly returned its focus to the range, fired a shot and safely put away the gun properly before returning to its verpine owner.

The Barabel was unphased by the barrel against his chest. His free hand reached toward Tomora’s blaster to urge it away.

“Yes?” he replied flatly, just as calm.

“You said just try,” Druzk replied, his expression remaining unchanged.

“You gonna lower that blaster or do you want this to continue to be awkward?”

With that, Druzk immediately backed away to grab himself some ear protection. “Don’t forget to light up another cigarette.”

Hearing now well protected from the explosive sounds of slugs being thrown at their targets, the Barabel returned to his position at the range. Unsure of the recoil of this particular weapon, he fired off a round as a test at one of the targets. It was definitely more than he thought it would be; this thing was damned powerful! Now that he knew what to expect, he unleashed the remaining nine rounds in quick succession, doing, surprisingly, just as well as if he were firing a blaster.

“I might need to get one of these things for myself!” he called out loudly.

Diyrian had been mid feeling out the weight of the slugthrower pistols, narrowing her selection down, when movement caught her eye. She clocked the exchange between their dear comp organizer and the reptilian man himself. A cocked bemused grin lifted her lips. At the mention of being watched, she turned most of her attention back to the crate.

Selecting a gun at random, Diy hit the range again and settled in. She squeeze the trigger–

BANG!

The pistol recoil bit back between her thumb and forefinger causing her to nearly drop the gun. Her ears rang sharply for a few heartbeats. She forgot to grab the ear protection, nosey as she has been.

“Karkin’ sithspit! That’s gonna smart,” Diy returned the pistol, grabbed some hearing aids, and decided to nurse her hand while the rest finished the round.

Vince watched the exchange with curiosity, as well as some apprehension as things started to seem heated. Though it seemed to cool off a bit as the Barabel turned away, he was a bit distracted as his turn came around. A few decent shots, but not as great as the previous rounds. At least he seemed to have a better time than the Kiffar that had rushed off.

After he returned his pistol, he went over to check on her. “Did it bite you?” he asked with a soft chuckle.

“Hah, maybe,” Diy huffed. She flashed a small grin. “but not enough to call it quits. So, Mister Top Shot, better hold that spot of yours.”

She pivoted to listen to the next round’s announcement. Tomora mentioned getting a feel for the kick back and Diy has a feeling she would be sore tomorrow. Ugh. Worth it though. The faux-Zelosian picked over the rifles and settled on a hunting one that seemed to have a more cushiony stock. She took her time firing it, electing to use the scope for once. The recoil certainly was giving her trouble and affecting her shots. She managed to hit a few superficial spots to score a bit on the board, which was an improvement to the last round at least. Finished, she flicked the safety on and returned the weapon.

With the round over, the Barabel lowered his weapon. On to the rifles!

Turning away from the range, he noticed one of his competitors snagging the scattergun for themselves. While unfortunate, there were still others from the selection that would’ve been sufficient. After returning his pistol, he glanced into the slugthrower rifle crate and reached for the cycler rifle.

“The weapon of Sand People. Always wondered how’d these things shoot like.”

Back to the range, he set himself up and fired off a shot to get used to the feel of it. Damned powerful thing it was. It was a slow-firing weapon, but it made up for it in terms of punch and accuracy.

Once the round was over, he seemed quite pleased with the result. Despite his inexperience with the use of such archaic weapons technology, the results in the end were all satisfactory.

“Alright. What’s next?”

Vincent picked one of the rifles that were left over and readied himself for the round. The Kiffar’s words might have inflated his ego a bit, as he went all out during this round. Though his accuracy suffered a bit, he managed to hit most of the targets. Not the worst, not the best. Happy enough with his score, he returned to the back of the line.

Mex had been playing a game of run-around, taking a shot and running away, then coming back to take another shot.

After a couple of frankly terrible shots, it was time to move onto explosives. The worst offender to the auditory sensors on their antennae. But Mex stated they’d participate and so they would. Grabbing an HH-12, Mex almost fell over trying to carry it to the range. Stabilising it using the counter they aimed, and pulled the trigger. The ordnance flew out, and Mex dropped the launcher as they hid behind the table in anticipation for the explosion. Shielding their antennae in vain as the explosion hit somewhere within the firing range.

Friend pulled a launcher and fired as well, grabbing both their and Mex’s weapons to return to the crate.

“Hi. How can anyone tolerate utilising these tools consistently?” Mex mused aloud to anyone and everyone else.

Diy grabbed a MPL-57 Grenade Launcher and a few grenades who’s effect brought a smile to her face. Diligently, she loaded them into the feeder and planted her feet to aim. Triggered pulled, the kick rocking her off balance. Three grenades rocketed through the air a short distance before smacking into the sane. An eruption of stick grey-pink goop bubbled up with sand and dried foliage stuck to the masses. The bubbles popped a second later to splatter the surrounding area in a mess.

“Alright, that was still fun,” Diy chuckled as she set the launcher down. Might have not gotten many points but it was worth seeing. She pivoted and leaned against the both to wait for the next round.

Vince picked weapons with a smaller blast radius, but it made little difference. Even with his headgear muffling the sounds, he gritted his teeth against the noise. He was glad for the points he received, but more thankful that the explosions were over with. He wrung his hands nervously when he returned back to the end of the line.

To Druzk’s dismay, the explosive round was over. To his pleasure, Tomora called for a second round! The Barabel returned to the crate to return his weapon and picked out another—this time, a PLX-1 Portable Missile Launcher. “You definitely have good taste,” he muttered to the Bothan with a firm slap against the back before he returned to the firing line.

The weapon’s smart target lock was notably disabled for this game. It made sense, of course. Seven missiles of explosive hell later, Druzk set the launcher against the table.

“There better be a third round after this!” he yelled over whatever explosions were still going.

Another explosive round.

Yippee.

Don’t get her wrong, Diy loves the thrill of the idea of explosions. Yet, there was some trepidation on grabbing something with more kick than some goop. She let the others rifle through and grab what they wanted. And that’s when she saw it. The guns woman thought it was a mix up at first. Some blaster pistol getting in the wrong crate. But when she picked it up and read the model information, Maxalan Firepower FWG-5 Smart Pistol.

A genuine pistol that fires miniature explosives.

Diyrian took it and a bunch of the small pellets back to the range. She loaded it up, pointed it down range at one of the moving targets, and fired. That was a miss, she knew it– the target lit up with red as the micro explosive curved slightly and followed, hitting it.

“Wait a minute? What?” she blinked a moment, registering what she witnessed. “They’re tracking pellets?! Kark yes!”

Giddy and excited, she laid into the field and enjoyed herself surprisingly. The pistol shape molding with familiarity much like her blasters. She hummed under her breath as she messed around, watching the pellets rain tiny explosions across the targets. More than satisfied, she ended when the clip ran dry, setting the gun down and hopping slightly in her happiness.

“Y'know, Imma have to get one of these. A new second love.”

“How disappointing,” Druzk replied with a snort. He glanced into the weapons crate after stowing the missile launcher in its rightful place. Primitive stock, all of it. Curious, he decided on the bow and its quiver of arrows.

He returned to the firing line. Obviously not used to the speed of unloosed arrows versus blaster bolts or slugs, his performance for the round was noticeably worse than the other rounds. A valiant attempt, nonetheless.

“Boring. What’s the fun without the boom?”

Diy laughed at the comment and returned the grin before listening to the debrief. It took her one look at the crate before she snatched up the mandalorian vambraces and clasped them on. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Squaring up in her shooting booth, she fiddled with the settings and ensured she understood them. The faux-Zelosian raised her arm and just quickly fired several darts at a couple targets. She followed it up with a grappling line haphazardly snagging one of the range’s droids.

“Hey, Artie, mind giving a hand for a lady?” Diy looked to the KX-series droid waiting to be told when it was time to pick up her heavy repeater rifle. 4R-7H3R dipped his head, grabbed the cable and pulled tangled victim closer. The woman grinned wide and released a torrent of flames into the holoprojector. “Kark yes! Haha!”

There was only an ounce of hysterical thrill leaching into her words.

Taking a couple breaths as she came down from the excitement, Diy pulled away from the range. She stroked the weapon with admiration once before unclasping it and putting it away. “That was fun. Five-seven, I’d do that again. Don’t think I’ll pick it up for use off the range though. Can you imagine twitching the wrong muscle?”

Vince made straight for an energy bow, eager to test it out. His first shots went a bit short as he was not used to the draw. However he finished strong with only a bit of soreness to his arms. He stretched and rolled his shoulders afterward as he considered which weapon to choose next.

When the missiles came out, Mex left the room again, droid in tow. The noise was just too much for the verpine to handle. Returning to the room at the tail-end of the next round, they realised they were in a rush. Quickly running up to grab whatever “miscellaneous” weapons there were.

They ended up throwing an empty bottle down-range. Barely hitting the target, and falling to the ground with a pathetic shatter.

Friend followed suit, but threw a dagger instead. It wasn’t the standard firearm they were programmed to use, but their targetting upgrades compensated for the unfamiliar action.

Hearing Tomora’s banter with Druzk, Mex added in: “Druzk likes guns. Like Friend. I never estimated that it was due to the auditory and visual feedback provided. Is that why you like explosives?”

“Yeah, I like the loud sounds and bright, flashy colors. Maybe I’ve got the current generation in my heart,” the Barabel joked.

As Druzk went to return the primitive, dull weapon to the crate, he noticed the whip. Without missing a beat, he pulled it out and stared at Tomora.

“Something for later,” he said, cracking the whip once in the air and returning it. He instead opted for the flamethrower.

Back to the firing line, he unleashed its fiery wrath towards the holographic targets.

Diy shrugged and decided to grab the bow and arrow. She recalled it from a couple of holofilms she saw before with fantasy willowy men and ladies that looked way too pretty. Curious, however, she took it to the range…

…and quickly learned she didn’t know one kark about shooting it. With some fan dangling, the Kiffar managed to find some way to hold it on the bow long enough to raise it up and without aiming at anything in particular, fired. The arrow made it two meters of wobbly flight before clattering into the sands.

“Yeah, I think that’s enough Leg'olas for me.”

Once the last of the shooting had commenced, Teon put his weapons away. Although he hadn’t done as well as he’d wanted, he supposed finishing in third was an acceptable outcome. He took the time to go over to each of the other contestants to thank and congratulate them for their efforts. In particular, he lingered where Druzk and Vincent were.

“You two really showed your skill today. Good job,” he said before knocking on his beskar breastplate with a closed hand.

After that, he made his way over to Diy and Cryo.

“As did you two. I may have been the better shot today, but that’s always subject to change.”

<@227960499948486666> <@244244400488710155> <@301514304845381632> <@285638940319416321>

Druzk wasn’t one to outwardly give thanks, but he nodded in acknowledgment to Teon’s congratulations. “You’re alright yourself.”

With that, he walked over Tomora and crossed his arms. “What was that about me losing the competition?” he asked with the most smug look on his face.

Vincent mirrored the Miraluka’s salute. He was a bit out of breath after trying out one of the whips, but he was grinning ear to ear. “Hard competition all around! Felt like I was in a fight for my life, there.”

Well, if this was an all blaster contest, she might have been disappointed with herself. Regardless, it was fun and to challenge a bunch of strangers, even better. Diy returned the silly bow and arrow before tossing her credits on the small pile building for the barabel, shooting him a wink as he passed. A pat on the shoulder was given to Vincent and a congratulations.Finding herself back with Cryo, she grinned and crossed her arms.

“I’m sure we can find ways to challenge your position sometime. Right, Cryo?”

<@301514304845381632>

Cryo felt quite a bit disappointed in herself. She had done well in some cases but in the end she had come short in a contest she was sure she’d top. Tossing some credits down, she grumbled and sighed as she regrouped with Diy and Teon.

She took a breath and gained a smile as she pushed away the thoughts of being lesser and accepted that she was good enough, at least for now.

“Right. Always another chance. Just means we’re one and one,” she said, referencing her tally with Teon. “Diyrian and I won’t let you keep the lead forever” <@1056685516441006091>

“I’m sure you two will think of something,” he smirked, “But just make sure to make things more interesting next time, will you?”

He was teasing, of course. He didn’t believe in rubbing it in someone’s face when they were already aware of their defeat. It was dishonorable.

“All of this shooting has worked up my appetite. We should get something to eat after this. What do you two think?”

<@244244400488710155> <@301514304845381632>

With the competition over, Mex’s energy seemingly returned to them, as if they were glad the noises were over.

“Does Druzk receive something for having the greatest number? Can I receive something for having the greatest position? Was this merely to satisfy infatuation with loud noises and sharp flashes?”

Regardless of how it went, it was at the very least beneficial for assessing and calibrating their droid’s combat parameters. It would prove to be an effective deterrent against dangerous deviants should the need arise.

Nudging the victorious Barabel, Mex posed a query. “Druzk, when did you want to leave? I am not under time constraints, just assessing whether I should wait before returning to the Voidbreaker.”

Druzk shrugged at the Verpine. “Well, I won some credits and bragging rights,” he said. “Good enough for me.”

He glanced over from Mex to Tomora and then back to Mex. “Eh, feel free to get back. I can find a way back myself. I’ve got some… unfinished business to settle.”