Togorian Hunter

"Yes, Commander." Sarrah's nod of acknowledgement was jerky and sudden, betraying his excitement. The Togorians were an emotional people, and even though Sarrah was better than most of his kind at suppressing his emotions, he was having difficulty in keeping himself from bouncing from foot to foot and fidgeting frantically in his eagerness to begin the mission. "I'll see you above Coruscant." The shadowy Togorian followed suit and jogged towards his Skipray Blastboat with massive strides. Upon taking off, it was a short time until the heavy starfighter put enough distance between him and Aaris III, allowing him to enter hyperspace.

Hearing his Commander's announcement, Sarrah looked up from the little shrine of bones that was left from his repast. Not a single sliver of meat remained from the bones that his appetite had visited, and given more time to himself, the Togorian would have been quite happy to continue eating, perhaps even to the point of cleaning out the Death Striker's meat locker. Sarrah smiled as he devoured what remained of the protein on his current bone; given his ravenous appetite, he was probably capable of doing that. "On my way." He rose and left for the hangar, and was pleased to see that a suit of blaster-resistant armor, specially made for his gigantic frame, awaited his use by his Skipray Blastboat. Although the armor was fairly conventional, it was capable of absorbing a great deal of the energy from a blaster bolt and sparing him from the test of his considerable fortitude. After donning the simple gray, unadorned armor, he sought out Commander Habithae. "Ready. What is our destination?"

"Commander." Sarrah nodded as he departed from Habithae's office, a definite hint of excitement visible in his stride as he left her to prepare for the battle. His Nimbialus was in pristine condition; during the last battle that took place on Coruscant, he didn't engage in any aerial combat. Just as well, because as formidable the Togorian was on the ground, he knew that if their fight against Black Sun took place in Coruscant's airspace, they would fail... miserably. His long, steady stride guided him to the Death Striker's armory, where he retrieved a pair of well-balanced vibrodaggers to complement his own powerful hunting knife. A number of grenades of various types, from traditional fragmentation and flashbang to the more exotic and specialized ion grenades, along with the habitual restocking of ammunition for his light blaster. Only one thing remained, of which his growling stomach dutifully reminded him. He was hungry. Sarrah could later be found in the galley, tearing apart slabs of frozen meat with an enthusiasm that bordered on the obscene.

((Sorry, I've been having midterms and have had to cut down on my alias RPing.)) Sarrah nodded slowly at Commander Habithae's declaration that they would attack Black Sun's Citadel on Coruscant. With the ongoing battle at the city-planet, it would be relatively easy for them to sneak onto Coruscant and even their foes' headquarters undetected. However, there still was the matter of actually defeating the crime syndicate on their own territory, which would be a tall order for even a group of specialized commandos--regardless of the risk, he agreed that taking their chances in open battle was much better than sitting around on Aaris III for the summons of the Alliance. "If... we can catch Black Sun off-guard and manage to disable their droidsss, I agree; we can pull this off." The huge Togorian paused for a moment. "Commander, I request leave to prepare for the attack."

"I believe that Black Sun fielded an army of combat droids to attack the Jedi Temple, including ssome Desstroyer droids." The fact was only heresay that Sarrah had picked up while fighting on Coruscant, but it was nonetheless important. Somehow, the Jedi had managed to defeat the army, but the Togorian had no idea how they succeeded. "Unless we managed to persuade the Alliance to abandon their truce with Black Sun, a space battle would be out of the question. "Still, how could we deal with their droid army?" Even though the shadowy felinoid was a fearsome fighter against organic foes, droids were out of his area of expertise.

The moment the Nimbialis appeared out of hyperspace in the vicinity of Aaris III, Sarrah, with his sharp eye-sight, spotted a very small object that his Skipray Blastboat was on the verge of colliding with. Overcome by curiousity, he held course and identified it as a small glassine bottle with vivid red and white labeling. The Togorian shook his head and veered away from the space debris, muttering a short phrase in his native language that roughly translated as "The gods must be crazy." The rest of the journey to the planet's surface and the Death Striker base was so uneventful that it wiped the memory of the bizarre space junk from his mind. As soon as he landed in the concealed hangar, the Togorian made his way to Commander Habithae's office. After a battle, there was bound to be a meeting, and Sarrah had every intention of performing as a competent member of the force he had just been accepted into.

Sarrah's Nimbialis streaked through hyperspace along with the rest of the Death Striker task force. It was easy to see that the Togorian was perhaps a bit nervous, even edgy at the prospect of going into battle.

((Excellent... It turns out I'm not going to miss this battle after all. )) Sarrah began to groom his soiled face in an attempt to get the smell of blaster ionization out of his fur... then her remembered that it was all a simulation. As realistic as the battle seemed, it wasn't real. If the Togorian was embarrassed, he didn't show any noticeable signs of it to his Commander or Mandalore. But he wasn't surprised to hear that the Rebellion was engaged at Coruscant. Despite Sarrah's peculiar opinion of the world as an important liability to whichever side held the planet, it seemed as though the Empire and Alliance considered it to be the most vital planet in the galaxy. "Very well, Commander." With a slow nod to both Commander Habithae and Mandalore, the huge Togorian strode away from the training room. From the armory he retrieved a heavier blaster pistol as a reserve, as well as a suit of light battle armor that would protect his massive from hostile fire and still give him the luxury of nearly unimpaired movement. Satisfied with his additional weaponry and armor, he headed back to the hangar to join the Commander of the Death Strikers.

The sound of battle was looming closer and was punctuated by the roar of an explosion. Sarrah ducked slightly and increased his pace, running towards the battle at nearly his fastest pace. The air was rank with the smell of smoke, explosives, and blaster ionization... the Togorian was definitely getting close. Sarrah soon fell upon the scene of battle and silently slunk into the building where the firefight was ensuing. The only sign of his movement was the haunting tapping of his claws on the surface of the floor. He sank low to the floor, almost crawling on all fours. Alas, some mercenary or pirate standing watch over the firefight panicked when he heard the ominous tapping of his claws slowly approach him. He swung his heavy repeater towards Sarrah and forced him to dive for cover from the steady stream of blaster bolts. Sarrah slunk back against the wall and waited for some brief respite in the blaster fire... a moment in which he reloaded, a small pattern that he could exploit... Finally, he found it. Even though the pirate was obviously skilled with his heavy repeater, the recoil of the weapon forced his aim to rise and fall in a choppy pattern. When the sheet of fire rose away from his massive frame, Sarrah edged around the corner and poked the barrel of his light blaster away from his cover. He sprayed the corridor with unaimed fire, forcing the pirate away and eventually striking him in his weapon arm. During the infinitely small moment that the Togorian had an advantage, he twisted around the corner and took careful aim. Two blaster bolts roared from the barrel of his weapon. The first missed but left a painful sore as it caressed his neck. The second hit him just under his chin. The pirate fell to the floor, completely still and either dead or dying quickly. A howl of rage announced the presence of a few more pirates who were clearly angered by the death of their friend. Deciding to utilize the better part of valor, Sarrah took to the winds and retreated at a pace that no ordinary human could match. Unfortunately for them, the three pirates who had stumbled upon their partner's rapidly cooling corpse decided to follow him.

By the time Sarrah was finished with his hand-to-hand training, his willing victim, a primitive punching bag, was reduced to a pathetic, pummeled mass. His shadowy fur gleamed with sweat, but his powerful muscles weren't even beginning to tire; he had endured far worse than a lengthy training session and survived. The Togorian still wasn't satisfied, but there was nothing more that this hanging mass of deadweight could offer him. The Togorian wandered through the base's corridors, and eventually came to the same featureless room that the armored man and Commander Habithae had walked into. After hesitating, the Sarrah gave a full-bodied shrug and wandered into the training room... and was abruptly surrounded by jungle. Gone were the cool, efficient environs of the Death Striker base, replaced by warm, humid air, and the myriad aromas of the jungle. Sarrah reached down, and his hand brushed over-grown ferns and leafy bushes. His jaw literally dropped, a distinctly un-Togorian gesture of amazement. Although the Togorian had experienced holographic simulations in the past, this... technology was incomprehensible in how it created an entirely realistic world, all from a data file. In the distance, Sarrah's catlike ears picked up the sound of blaster fire. Among the fire, the constant roar of a repeating blaster rifle stood out. Crouching slightly, the Togorian made his way through the jungle, eyes and ears alert for any sign of danger, towards the sound of the battle.

It appeared that the Death Striker operatives were all training at the moment, so Sarrah decided that he should practice his hand-to-hand combat skills. The massive, shadowy Togorian ducked into a more traditional training hall, and set up a simple punching bag to use as his victim. Most Togorians followed a brutal style of melee combat, relying on their brute strength and razor-like claws to shred their opponents to gruesome pieces. Although this worked with bloody results on most opponents and wild animals, the wide, beastly swipes that Togorians employed while hunting were somewhat weak against true masters of hand-to-hand combat. In Sarrah's experiences with the Rebellion and travelling the galaxy, he could see the weaknesses of that aggressive strategy and learned to follow a more conservative form of combat, while still utilizing his natural Togorian muscle. The punching bag soon discovered the destruction that the combination of basic hand-to-hand technique and Togorian strength could cause. ((Basically just posting to remind you that this character isn't inactive.))

Sarrah was certainly one happy Togorian, with his stomach full of raw meat. Granted, it was frozen and thawed, but he wasn't familiar the terrain surrounding the Death Striker's base and wasn't prepared to request a day of leave for hunting when he had just joined the faction. But regardless, the large felinoid's equally massive appetite was satisfied, he had a commander that he could be pleased with his service to, and a moment to do as he wished. He was almost to the point of purring with pleasure. The Togorian wandered through the halls and eventually spotted Commander Habithae walk into a side room, closely followed by the other new recruit, his form completely covered in a full-body suit of armor. At first, he couldn't decide what was happening inside the room, but judging from how neither of them left after a lengthy period of time, he surmised that it must be a virtual reality training room. That was most impressive--Sarrah had only heard of those, let alone have the opportunity to train in one. The massive felinoid continued to prowl the Death Striker base, his finely-tuned mind quickly memorizing the layout of the edifice.

The Death Strikers... we are going to train these soldiers to fight Sith? They will have to learn to fight as one... a pack of fellow hunters with perfect coordination. It was clear to Sarrah that the Death Strikers had some sort of alliance with the Alliance and possibly the Jedi, which the Togorian had no complaints about. To the contrary, he was pleased that he would be able to continue aiding the Alliance. "No, Commander. I have no questions at this time." All of Commander Habithae's suggestions greatly appealed to Sarrah. He was very curious about his new surroundings and wanted to explore the base, and it had been far too long since he had a chance to spar with a decent opponent--few people wanted to challenge the Togorian, for obvious reasons. But most importantly, he was hungry, and he usually was. As a massive, nearly seven foot felinoid burdened with huge muscles, he went through food, almost entirely raw meat, at an astonishing rate. His mind was made up. Sarrah decided to follow the tempting scent of food, and investigate what the base's mess hall had in terms of bloody raw meat...

Again, Sarrah bowed to his new commander. "Thank you, Commander. I will make sure that you do not regret thisss decision." As the massive felinoid rose, something came alive in his blue-green eyes, betraying the emotion that his inscrutable expression refused to reveal. From the light in his eyes, it was easy to see that he was excited and eager to report to Aaris III's base. The Nimbialis took off a few minutes later, and followed Habithae's lead during the transfer to the main planet. The presence of the Alliance's transports and shuttles was all but impossible to miss, and Sarrah privately wondered what business the Alliance had here.

Sarrah knew his answer before he even began thinking about it; those were instincts and morals that had long been ingrained in his personality. Terrorists were scum, the bottom dregs of society, parasites that had to be stamped out and exterminated... they deserved little to no mercy. The mere thought of them was enough to make the Togorian's blood begin to simmer. "I communicate with the local authoritiesss. I find out the most likely suspectss, the organization, and sstudy them extensssively." Sarrah forced himself to slow down; his lisp was returning. "What weapons they use, their tactics, anything I can find. If the authoritiess have any physical evidence, especially clothing and weaponry, even defused explosives, I study it as well, memorize their scent." Sarrah thought some more. From what he knew of terrorist organizations, they almost never killed in public, unless they planned to make a major statement. Most civilized worlds had competent enough security forces to prevent the destruction of a major building, so a sniper would probably be the most likely means of attacking the woman and child in public. It was all but impossible to defend against that kind of attack. "The woman and child go underground, and stay with the local authorities. I attempt to mislead the terroristss, provoke them into attacking a location of my choice... a decoy. The decoy is filled with high-tech ssecurity ssysstems to deceive them into believing it is really a government safe house... and I ambush them, hopefully with the aid of a small number of law enforcement commandos. "We attempt to capture as many of them as posssible, and interrogate them to try to reveal their base of operations. We strike as soon as one of the terroristss cracks, and end their threat." He fell silent, feeling that he had sufficiently explained his most likely course of action. He basically chose the strategy he was most familiar with: hunting his opponents with the aid of a small pack of allies and friends.

Why should I be part of the Death Strikers? Sarrah was rather surprised by Induran's question, partly because of his prior experience with the Alliance. The Alliance seemed to want as many able-bodied men to flock to its cause as possible, with few questions asked. This Codru-Ji woman was extremely selective, chosing instead to attract only the elite, and her recruitment procedure was closer to a job interview. "I sserved in the Rebellion for a sshort time, after the Alliancce captured Coruscant. I wasss sssick and tired of the Empire'ss xenophobia." Sarrah took a deep breath to calm himself and to think for a half second. He was getting mildly upset, and it was showing in his worsening lisp. After a second, he trusted himself to speak again. "They chose to hide in civilian areass, gave the Alliance no choice but to rissk civilian deaths or to hold back... They were willing to... endanger the innocent, many of them were non-humans. Such cowardice and blind hatred doess not deserve to exisst in the galaxy. "The Rebellion wasss..." Sarrah paused, both to think and to search for the proper word. "Too sstructured, too military. My kind are hunters, not soldiers, best at working in small groups, not armies. "I am an expert in surviving in the wilderness, and at ssstealth, despite my size... My sight and smell are far more keen than that of a human's. As a hunter, I am skilled in building primitive traps... which sensors will not detect. I am also a crack shot with blaster pistols and skilled with a knife, but I don't really need one." He resisted the temptation to bare his claws. "I have also noticed that most people are terrified of my kind. They think of Togorianss as legends, things from nightmares." The armored man's initial reaction had not escaped his attention. A low mewling sound came from his throat, his equivalent of a soft chuckle.

Sarrah returned Induran Habithae's bow, choosing to bend his knees slightly so that he didn't tower over the Codru-Ji. He straightened, then looked the considerably smaller being in the eye. "Greetingsss, commander. My name is Ssarrah." Sarrah introduced himself with a minor lisp, which he hoped would eventually disappear as he practiced his Basic more.

The Nimbialis touched down smoothly, and a few minutes, the Togorian Sarrah appeared at the bottom of the boarding ramp. He was a fairly massive being, eye-to-eye with most Wookiees, and every single centimeter of his impressive frame was covered in well-honed muscle. He wore no armor at the moment, as the suit of armor the Rebellion issued to him was ruined during his time on Coruscant. Now that was an interesting experience--if it weren't for his natural hardiness and powerful frame, he would have died many times over, crushed under the rubble of the devastated cityscape. He also openly wore few weapons, only a light blaster at his side and a large hunting knife in a sheathe on his belt. But Togorians were weapons; as felinoids, they had large, scimitar-like claws, easily capable of opening up a human being and even breaking through light armor. And then he had his fangs, great, white calcium hooks, perfectly evolved for ripping into the flesh of beasts larger than him--their effect on a humanoid would be obvious. Simply put, Togorians had evolved to hunt and avoid being seen, despite their large frames. Not that he was in the mood for violence. Sarrah was ordinarily a peaceful being, and he wasn't especially hungry at the moment. The felinoid was simply aware his great figure was capable of scaring the excrement out of most species. Sarrah was content in waiting for his hosts to come for him; he was an extremely patient being. The giant felinoid simply stood there, silent and still as an ebony statue.

Where is that lever? Sarrah, a black-furred, two-meter tall Togorian, searched frantically about the cockpit of his new Skipray Blastboat, the Nimbialus, for the lever that controlled hyperspace entry. Although he was physically powerful, with thick muscles covering every centimeter of his massive body, and was quite a hand-to-hand combatant--although, few people were insane or stupid enough to challenge a Togorian--he was a bit new at this piloting thing. He was remarkably stealthy for such a huge being, and his scimitar-like claws could easily open up a sentient, technology... he was slightly less used to, even with his short service in the Alliance. Male Togorians were hunters, not technicians. Just as Sarrah located the hyperdrive lever and was about to pull it back, the overrides kicked in and the Nimbialus popped out of hyperspace. Sarrah took a moment to regard the world... more than a few moments, actually. For roughly a minute, he studied the view, admiring its blue-green surface, covered in oceans and jungles... Although the Togorian had an appreciation for such terrain, he definitely preferred the smooth plains and rolling hills that mimicked his homeworld. It wasn't until the glow of the planet dominated the fighter's canopy that he snapped out of his reverie and finally hailed the base that he knew was somewhere on Aaris III's surface. "Greetingsss..." his speech had a slight lisp; he hadn't practiced his Basic for some time. "This is Sarrah. I am here to sspeak with the leader of the Deavth Sstrikers, Induran Havbithae." He had a legitimate reason to be here. He had already communicated with their leader, and she had directed him to this jungle. The Togorian waited patiently for the base's response.

ARGH!! Wrong thread, wrong alias!

I think that I have everything here... Name: Sarrah (pronounced "Sare-uh") Race: Togorian Sex: Male Homeworld: Togoria Age: Equivalent of middle 30's for a Togorian Height: Roughly 6.5 feet, a bit over Weight: Well over 350 pounds (Togorians are big) Alignment: Lawful Good. Appearance: Black Fur, with some small white patches on chest. Very thickly muscled. Tends to speak with a minor lisp. Clothing: An oversized black tunic, with black casual breeches, and a large black leather gunbelt. Weapons: A long, well-balanced "hunting knife" (think Crocodile Dundee's "now this is a knife"), and his very formidable claws and teeth. He also carries a light blaster pistol, though he rarely uses it--or has reason to . Inventory: Just his weapons. Non-Force User (EDITED for pronunciation, that's all)