Belly of the Beast

In his slow drift towards the enemy, Rarek heard the message from Nan.
Ofcourse, had to be the bad kind of furball
Since their foe could be assumed dumb enough to not intercept any coms, Rarek was the first to answer.
“This is Rarek. Feral or not, that ship has to go and I am nearly to it. If I don’t hear another good idea before I do, then I do it my way."
Letting off of the thrusters, his ship entered a dead drift as Rarek left to prepare his welcoming gifts. Spear as ready as ever, he looked to the ship of his lost comrade to supply the fireworks.
Opening the compartment that acted as the ships armory, it wasn't a gun that drew his eye. It was one of Hargar's most prized trophies, two metal cylinders plucked from the dead hands of their jedi's.
Sabers.
Although he had been around Jedi for much of his life, he was never allowed training to use their signature weapons. While he would have loved to begin desecrating these "holy" artifacts, he had witnessed first hand what happened to the foolish.
With blasters aplenty and as of yet no contact from the others, Rarek settled back into his seat in preparation for a few rugs for the ship. Maybe a nice cloak.

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