annexedlogs | and i won't keep what i can't catch (mini-mission, OTA)

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and i won't keep what i can't catch (mini-mission, OTA)

Who: Boba Fett and YOU!
What: Clearing out the invasive monster fish introduced by the Sylphid to the lake near the Witch's Camp.
When: Mid-January
Where: The lake near the Witch's Camp
Content Warnings: Animal death

[ Since arriving on this world and taking part in his first mission, Boba has done his best to keep himself busy. He doesn’t like having too much downtime, doesn’t like letting his mind wander or his skills degrade. Restlessness comes easily to him. Thus, he is a frequent visitor to the missions’ board at Central Command, always looking to see what work there is to be done.

This month, there’s plenty. He scans through them, rapidly noticing a theme. The assortment of various animal control missions are something of a novelty to him—he may be a hunter, but his prey is usually of the more sapient variety. Still, it’s work and, in the case of the mutant predatory fish in the lake, work that he has some particular expertise in.

And so, later that week, he can be found at the lake on the edge of the Witch’s Camp, practicing with his newly purchased weapon-slash-fishing-implement. As a kid, he would’ve called something like this a “pocker.” Here, they just call such things atlatls or fishing spears. Yet, despite the difference in name, it functions almost identically to the one his father had taught him to use as a boy: aim, throw, and twist the handle to lock the line and reel the spear back in. It even features a similar missile accelerator system to generate extra forward momentum behind each throw, though this one is pneumatic rather than ion-powered. He refines his aim at the water’s edge, taking out floating clumps of algae as he waits for the engine of the borrowed watercraft to warm up a few meters away. His father had always demanded perfection on the hunt, even when their prey was fish. Yet, the last time they went fishing together had been an exception to the rule. That time, Jango Fett had said nothing at all and Boba had wasted the afternoon taking potshots at shadows. And a few days later...

Boba isn’t expecting company. When someone approaches, he’ll stop what he’s doing and watch them with narrowed eyes. ]

Didn’t know this was a group mission.

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[ How long had it been since he'd needed to hunt for food? The stray night or handful of days during the Clone Wars but that was about comfort more than need. They had ration cubes, energy capsules, and the Force.

He'd been a boy. Hunting vermin for him and his mother when Watto gambled away the money.

A sour time that left sour memories. Fett's comment drew him from thought. ]

For some. But I have a family to ensure its properly fed.

[ Despite them all being grown. Never let it be said he didn't take his duties and responsibilities as father and husband seriously. ]

Edited 2023-01-25 08:30 (UTC)

[ It's odd thinking of Vader as a family man. A few months ago, he'd been practically a myth, a nightmare to frighten the would-be enemies of the Empire. Picturing him fishing to put food on the table feels discordantly mundane.

Still, Boba won't argue with his motivations. He motions to the boat off to the side with a jerk of his head. ]

Should be ready to go in another minute or two.

[ As much as Boba had been expecting this to be a solo job, there's worse company than Vader to have along. He supposes he has his older self to thank for making a good first impression—if Vader is still somewhat of an intimidating presence, it helps to know that the man has, at the very least, a favorable disposition towards Boba's continued existence.

Plus, Boba would be lying if he said he wasn't a little curious about how the right hand of the Emperor might go about catching fish. He doesn't have a helmet concealing his eyes now, so it's clear from the direction of his glance that he's checking if Vader brought a lightsaber. ]

I take it you've brought something suitable for the job.

The one that approaches, as it turns out, is a short young man with long sandy-blonde hair and pointy ears. He looks at Boba with a blank, unreadable expression.

Link hadn't exactly expected a group mission either. For some reason, people here seemed to really, really like big groups. It was taking some getting used to. Seems this man wasn't used to it either.

"I can fish on my own," Link says, before tapping at the Sheikah Slate. Into his hands suddenly appears a large, glowing blue sphere. Link holds it as he starts walking along the edge of the water, looking for any monster fish he can spot.

Fair enough. Boba doesn't argue, simply turning back to his own preparations. Still, habit makes him watch the young man out of the corner of his eye. The stranger doesn't seem to have brought any obvious fishing equipment, just an ornate stone tablet which Boba can only assume to have some kind of magical significance. If one can fight with magic, Boba supposes one must be able to fish with it as well.

His attention sharpens as a tap of the tablet summons a glowing blue orb into the stranger's hands. It doesn't look like any sort of tool he recognizes, nor any sort of weapon. He'll have to watch and wait to see exactly what the stranger intends to do with it.

It takes few minutes of intense searching from Link, before he finds what he's after. But sure enough, soon he spots a small school of the piranha-like monster fish, just near the water's edge.

At which point, Link simply tosses the sphere into the water, right in the middle of the fish - and then taps again at the Slate.

The sphere, ever since being summoned, has been making a soft humming noise. But now, that hum becomes a ring, and the ring becomes a boom - and the sphere explodes.

Several fish now begin to float to the top of the water, dead.

By the time the stranger has apparently found what he's looking for, the watercraft's engine has completed its activation cycle. Boba stands next to it, no longer hiding his attention as he watches the young man chuck the glowing blue orb into the water with a splash.

Some part of him already knows to brace when the sound shifts. Even so, the resulting explosion is more than he expected, a brilliant blue flash of sound and force that rattles his teeth and sets his ears ringing. He fights not to react visibly. The cluster of dead fish in the water testifies to the explosive's efficiency—if not it's precision.

He waits for the ringing in his ears to quiet some before he speaks, voice deadpan.

"You're aware we're only supposed to kill the invasive fish. Aren't you?"

Link looks back at the man, blank-faced. "This is how I fish." If he ever knew any other way to do it, he doesn't remember anymore.

And besides - if he catches a few non-monster fish, what's wrong with that? That just means more fish for Link.

Fish he starts collecting right now, as Link jumps straight into the water to start collecting the dead fish.

[ That Vader is, in so many ways, a nightmare to frighten the would-be enemies of the Empire. But he's also a deeply grieving widower and a father if newly discovered. Here, however, he is a husband, not a widower, and a father and grandfather and he was deeply enjoying being the latter instead of the former. ]

[ He nodded at Boba's comment. ]
I hear some patience is required for this endeavor.

[ Vader moved his surcoat to the side a little, showing his hip and the hilt hanging from it. But he also shifted his arm to reveal a miniature speargun concealed under the netting laying over his shoulder, marking with blazing orange floats across the top. ]

It should be sufficient, it's similar to something Tarkin has used.

[ The speargun at Vader's side looks more than adequate. In all honesty, it was probably a better choice than the atlatl Boba had brought; it'll make the fish just as dead without as much expenditure of effort. The realization brings with it a brief jolt of embarrassment. Boba had assumed he be completing the job alone and thus had made the rare choice of nostalgia over efficiency. Now, he has a vague sense that he's been caught being unprofessional. ]

Should do fine, [ Boba says, turning towards the boat. He wishes he'd had his armor on before Vader arrived. Summoning it now would feel like a needless hostility, but he misses having something to cover his face. He steps onto the boat and feels the ground turn weightless beneath his boots.

The boat itself is a fairly basic motored design. Its one distinguishing feature is that its base is made of a transparent material that allows passengers to see into the waters below. Right now, there's not much to see besides the lake's muddy shore. Boba takes position at the steering console and waits for Vader to get onboard. ]

I'll take us out to the middle of the lake. Central Command already supplied bait— [ a jerk of his head toward a cooler tucked against one side of the deck, ] so it'll just be a matter of drawing the creatures somewhere with good visibility.

[Hunting is a natural tradition of the Cathar, if not of her particular tradition. She would admit, were she asked, that something calls to her about it. Not a bloodlust, but a...fulfillment of something ancient beyond reckoning. And it is of use, and she likes to be of use.]

[Some might call it compulsion - she calls it the Jedi Way. Then again, she is of a very old sort of Jedi. To everyone else, at least.]

[And to her annoyance, she's closer to the Mandalorian than she likes before she realizes he's there - they are a subtle sort. She feels the fur on the back of her neck start to rise when he speaks, forcing it back by an act of will.]

We are all on the same side, aren't we?

It seems Boba's sarcasm is wasted on the stranger. Given that blank-faced stare, he may as well be trying to embarrass a brick wall. All he can do is watch, annoyed, as the young man immediately splashes into the water to collect the floating fish carcasses.

Is this Boba's problem? His eyes stray to the now-ready and waiting boat, wondering if he should just leave the stranger to his lunacy. He then glances back at the kid, whose arms are now full of dead fish.

...He'll make one attempt. That's it. After that, it's out of his hands.

"We were assigned to clear the lake of the invasive species because it's killing the other fish," he says, speaking slowly like he's talking to an idiot. "Bombing the lake will also kill the other fish."

Stars, he feels stupid even having to explain it. He misses his own galaxy—there, he would've just shot the stranger and have been done with it by now.

Allegedly.

[ His tone is glacial. The Jedi is about the last person he would've chosen to run any sort of mission alongside, even one as simple as this. He stares at her hard for a moment before turning his gaze back to the spear in his hands, one finger carefully testing its sharpness. Of course, the distraction is feigned. His attention is still very much on Juhani. ]

I don't need your help.

The dead fish don't actually stay in Link's arms. Instead, he touches them to the rectangular device at his hip, and they just...disappear.

Then Link starts to swim back towards the shore, unconcerned by the fact that he is now dripping wet when he pulls himself out.

He looks at Boba. Still with that blank expression. Head now tilted to the side. He considers the statement, at least.

"I won't bomb the whole lake," he promises. Just the bits with more monster fish in it.

Nor do I. That being said.

[She stepped down to the water, crouching lightly at the bank.]

Many hands make for light work.

Another blank stare. If it weren't for the stranger's tilted head, Boba would be hard-pressed to recognize that thought was occurring in there.

Combined with that expression, the young man's promise doesn't feel particularly reassuring. Still, Boba figures it's the best he's going to get. At least, he thinks, if he himself takes the boat then the stranger will be limited to his explosive 'fishing' close to shore.

Boba says nothing in response, just fixes the kid with a disdainful stare for a moment more before turning away. The boat should be about ready now. He steps aboard and occupies himself with preparing to depart—alone, if he can at all help it.

Fortunately for Boba, Link makes no attempt to follow into the boat. Link's happy enough doing his own thing - and he doesn't see the need to impose on someone else, if they don't want it.

He will, however, continue to bomb the edges of the lake. The sound of explosions will be the background music to Boba's fishing adventure.

[ His gaze settles back onto the Jedi as she crouches by the water's edge. What, he wonders, does she expect from their cooperation? Perhaps she is foolish enough to think she can make an ally of him as she had the Mand'alor. Or maybe this is simply her display of Jedi detachment, that she is willing to work with scum like him for the purpose of practicality.

After a moment more, he turns away and steps onto the boat without a word. Grudging as he may be to admit it, they are on the same side, at least for now. Barring his personal feelings, he has no reason to refuse her help. Just as well, he has no reason to pretend to be happy about it either.

He occupies himself with checking the engine, though he never quite turns his back to the Jedi. If he won't make any move to invite her onboard, neither will he attempt to stop her if she decides to join him. ]

[She does, stepping lightly into the boat without a sound and barely any trace of her presence, save what he can see wit his eyes. She points, downriver.]

Quite a lot of them. That way.

[ She's quiet when she wants to be. Very quiet. Boba finds himself thinking of their last encounter, when she had seemed to appear almost out of thin air between him and the saboteur. The memory still unsettles him.

He gives no verbal acknowledgement to her direction, just moves to the steering console and sets their course. He's heard that Jedi can sense lifeforms, though he uncharitably wonders if she's just doing her best to create that impression now. They've already been told the lake is full of the mutant fish. They'd probably find them no matter what way they went.

The boat proceeds in silence for several minutes, Boba staring out over the bow at the water beyond. As it turns out, the Jedi doesn't need to tell him to stop—the tumult of writhing, scaly bodies and blood in the water does that well enough. He slows their speed, stopping close enough to be within spearing range, but distant enough not to disturb what is apparently a feeding frenzy. A few ragged feathers left on the surface give a hint as to the victim's species.

He leaves the steering console and grabs his spear-thrower, positioning himself by the boat's edge. For a few moments, he'll simply observe. The fish are actually somewhat smaller than the rollerfish he and his father had hunted on Kamino, though they certainly seem more aggressive. Boba pinpoints one towards the edge of the swarm, scales rippling as it tries to push its way to the center of the mob. For the moment, he allows himself to ignore the Jedi—he can't allow for any distractions while lining up a shot. Silently, he lifts the atlatl to his shoulder and takes aim. Muscle memory does the rest. He adjusts for the refraction of the water, slowly exhales—and snaps his arm forward, throwing the spear in a deadly stroke. The projectile pierces the water and buries itself solidly just below the creature's right gill—but, while such a blow would have immediately incapacitated a rollerfish, this one is still very much alive and squirming.

It's clear from the frown on Boba's face that he's not happy with this result, even if it was a direct hit. He begins to reel in the fish, hoping to learn a little more about his catch—

—and doesn't make it very far before its peers begin devouring it as well. In mere moments, it's reduced to little more than a few scraps of bone and viscera hanging off the edge of the spear. He reels in the remains with a raised eyebrow. Looks like he'll be learning from trial and error, then. ]

[One thing she would acknowledge, if asked, would be the basic skills behind what he's doing. It is clearly something learned over years, practised and honed. But she could always give the Mandalorians that much credit.]

[What a pity they used their skills for such horrid things.]

[But speaking of horrid...the sudden onset of cannibalism amongst the fish is more than a little bit of a surprise.]

Well. That was...something.

[She looks at him for a moment.]

I can lift one from the water, if you can hit it and pull it in before it falls into the water again.

[ Perhaps the cannibalism should've been expected. After all, the mission briefing had said that the fish would eat just about anything. Boba makes a mental note to be cautious about getting too close to the water.

At the Jedi's offer, Boba grunts an affirmative. ]

I just need one, [ he mutters, then adds: ] I want to know where to hit.

[ His father had prized clean kills; as a result, so does he. Once he knows that much, he cares little how many of their brethren the fish devour. ]

[For different reasons, they can agree there. Prolonged suffering is not, and never can be, a good thing.]

[She holds out a hand, closing her eyes. For a moment, nothing seems to happen, though Boba's ears may feel a sensation like a pressure that isn't really there. Like the strange non-sound one can sometimes hear when eyes are squeezed tightly shut, like a distant, rolling thunder.]

[And, slowly at first, a panicking, thrashing fish lifts up out of the water.]

[ Boba indeed feels it and, as unsettling as it may be, it's as functional a cue as any. He raises his spear-thrower yet again and prepares to take aim—

Though, that's not quite enough to prepare him for the sight of a fish rising slowly out of the water, still thrashing around in an invisible grasp. He exhales, almost a laugh. It's an undeniably incredulous sight, almost comically so. Still, his amusement is short-lived. He takes aim, making minute adjustments to account for the lack of refraction now that he isn't aiming through water. This time, his aim is higher, at where he estimates the creature's spine to be. If it doesn't kill the fish outright, hopefully it will at least paralyze it. Again, he breathes steadily in and out—and again his arm flashes forward, propelling the spear through the air towards his prey.

He's not sure whether hitting the fish will be more like hitting a falling target or a pinned one. Either way, once the spear has pierced solidly into its body, he'll start to reel it back in, quickly so as not to provoke another impromptu feeding frenzy from its brethren below.

Within seconds, it's twitching out its last on the deck of the boat. The creatures are tough, Boba will give them that. A blow like that would've pierced clean through the spine of most fish, but this one is only partially paralyzed, its jaws still snapping feebly at the air. Boba makes a sound of displeasure low in his throat, crouching over it—and then, unceremoniously, summons his armor.

Really, he just needs access to the vibroblade in his gauntlet, but he's already learned that he can't summon his armor piecemeal. It's either the whole set or nothing. It seems to fold out from nowhere, transforming him in a single second into a Mandalorian warrior—

A Mandalorian warrior who is mostly just concerned with efficiently dispatching a fish. The vibroblade in his gauntlet slides out with a shunk and, using one hand to hold the fish down, he uses the blade to feel along the spinal cord for a weak spot. He finds one just behind its eye. He drives the tip of the blade through the point until he feels it hit the deck beneath. Finally, the fish lies still.

Boba stands, wiping the blade clean with the glove of his other hand. ]

Found it.

[ Vader had made a choice of ease and familiarity over a device needing skill. And was going on someone else's experience - of the two, he showing his own inexperience with the trask. ]

I would never turn down the advice of someone with clear expertise.

[All of it is quite disturbing. On many a level, really. She shakes her head, leaving most of it aside and concentrating on the matter at hand.]

One wonders what pressures created fish so...durable.

[She casts her eyes back out at the water.]

This will take some time.

[ Boba only nods in response. Most of his clients before now have been Jabba and his associates; if they ever acknowledged his skill or expertise, it was always with a mocking edge—and usually an excuse to deny him something he needed for a job. Vader might not be acting as his client right now, but it's still the role Boba has mentally slotted him into ever since he learned about their future dealings. And so he says nothing—Vader might mean it earnestly or his esteem might be bait itself. Best not to find out.

In silence, he turns on the engine and begins to pilot the boat towards the center of the lake. Occasionally, he looks down at the transparent deck beneath his feet, surveying the water for clarity and any dark shapes swimming below. He only stops when the waters are both clear and active enough to show promise.

At that point, Boba rises up from the steering console, heads towards the bait cooler, and pulls out one of several buckets of chum. He's never actually done this on a boat before; when he and his father had gone spear-fishing on Kamino, it had always been on the shore. Still, he figures the general principles are the same. He takes the bait to the bow of the boat, observes the tide for a moment, then begins to throw chunks of fish meat into the water. That done, he glances at Vader.

You never wanted to give a Hutt advice. But Vader was no Hutt and he had, at least ostensibly, been open to instruction. Boba hesitates for just a moment, weighing his odds—and then: ]

When the fish come, you'll need to aim a few inches lower than their position to make up for the water's refraction. They also tend to be deeper than they look.

[ Which shouldn't be much of a problem for Vader given he won't need to adjust the force of his throw like Boba will need to do, but Boba figures it's better to err on the side of more information than less. ]

[ Vader has, understandably, a low opinion of Jabba and his ilk. In fact it had been his fondness for the Clones that had made him fond of Fett. Not respectful - the younger man's work spoke for itself there - but fond. Something Fett himself hadn't been pleased about.

But for all Vader was a heavy, awkward figure, there was something to his posture that was almost relaxing as they got over the water. Something about it he seemed to enjoy - which he did really. And he listened to Fett speak on how to best hunt their prey. In response, Vader slightly bowed his head. He was looking at the water, studying. The movements of the fish as they fed and fought over the chum in the water. ]

Good to know, thank you.

[ He was very much studying = he did know that taking the largest made fish tend towards smaller, but these were invasive. Larger was better yes? ]

Artificial ones, maybe.

[ For all they know, the Sylphid had specially designed these fish in a lab—or the magical equivalent of one. All the more reason they probably shouldn't eat what they catch.

No matter. Boba walks back to the edge of the boat and tosses the fish carcass overboard, where it's quickly set upon by its former peers. Boba picks up his atlatl again. ]

At least bait won't be an issue.

Boba spends a few moments letting Vader study the movement in the water below them. So far, the man seems quite easy to work with—a far cry from the fearsome stories Boba has heard of him even in his own time. Were the stories exaggerated, he wonders? Or is Vader simply more respectful towards Boba for the service he will render to him in the future?

Either way, Boba isn't complaining. A few seconds more and he takes up his atlatl and approaches the edge of the boat, staying a healthy distance from Vader to avoid either of them interfering with one another's shots.

"We don't want to wait too long after baiting the water to strike," he says, eyes following the flicker of fins and tails in the murk. "Or the bait will sink too low to be useful to us."

His eyes zero in on a particularly bold fish, its teeth flashing in the dark waters as it snaps up chunks of bait. Boba takes aim with his spear-thrower, lifting it to his shoulder. There's a brief pause as he exhales—and then his arm snaps forward, launching the spear into the water. The projectile buries itself in the fishes side to a fury of thrashing and Boba immediately twists the atlatl to begin reeling the creature in. It struggles all the way onto the deck of the boat, the spear lodged solidly in its side doing little to abate its furor.

In an instant, Boba summons his armor, deploys the retractable vibroblade from his wrist, and drives the tip through the creature's spine. It takes more force than he expected, but finally, the fish lies still.

"They're tough," he mutters, still crouching over the carcass and using the blade to probe for any weak spots. He finds one just behind the eye and steps aside so Vader can see. "Here," he says, pointing with the blade. "Might be a good spot to aim for."

At least.

[She sighs, then nods.]

We'd best get to work, then.

To be fair: How easy Vader was to work with had much to do not only with his mood but also the competence of the people he was working with. People who were incompetent or careless with the lives of the stormtroopers? Were the ones most likely to find out how fearsome he could be.

Thinking of the bait sinking, Vader focused on it and used the Force to keep it near the surface where it would be useful. He almost - almost - dropped it when the fish hit the boat, but managed to hold it. Even still he watched Fett closely, but also their prey - reading it for signs of attack or life.

"They do seem to be." Time to try to moat them off for defense he thinks.

With Boba's prey dead, Vader turned toward the water, and followed a few tails until he picked one of the larger fish, lifted the spear gun, aimed, and fired. It didn't quite hit the shot Fett had suggested and Vader reeled it in hard, using his knee to pin it down and shoved the spear in deeper to completely sever the spine. Good thing about metal legs - he hadn't even considered the jaws of the fish. Hadn't needed to.

However there were now some rips in the fabric and no hiding the dull dark grey and shiny lighter grey metals that made up his legs.

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and i won't keep what i can't catch (mini-mission, OTA)

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Ok, so my reply apparently never posted, sorry for this!

it happens!

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