Log:Black Squadron: Furball Problems

Black Squad encounters some locals

OOC Date: March 4, 2021
Location: Sanctuary Moon, Endor System
Participants: Black Squadron, Jessika Pava, Ektor, Bors Thul, Detargon NPC played by Hahtavi, Poe Dameron

The Sanctuary Moon is green! Lots and lots of green, which can be seen as Black Squadron makes it through the atmosphere and cloud cover to land in a marked clearing roughly a kilometer from the beacon location. Their squad is reinforced by a scout from the local battalion who complained they needed a guy to get his boots broken in a bit before they sent him out on other missions. So, (Hahtavi's NPC) is with the special forces unit, Black Squadron.

Poe sets the Ghost down, triggering the ship to enter a stand-by mode before turning back to yell down the corridor. "WE'RE HERE!"

The ramp lowers, and the first person out of the Ghost is the marching red and black B2 Battledroid that's been SELF-DECORATED with bones from unfortunate victims of prior combat operations; THIS IS MR. BONES! Mechanical whines sound with each heavy footstep until it reaches the ground and steps out. Its beak like head turns one way, then another, and another. <<"GREAT DESTROYER.. STRATEGIC ANALYSIS REVEALS THE FOREST IS FILLED WITH SOUNDS FROM LOCAL FAUNA. WE ARE OUTNUMBERED. REQUESTING PERMISSION TO BEGIN DESTROYING THE FOREST! WE MUST DENY OUR ENEMIES THE ADVANTAGE OF COVER AND CONCEALMENT. OVER.">>

Poe pinches the bridge of his nose as he walks back to the tactical room to monitor the squad's progress. "Good luck with this one, Jess. Hahaha." He runs up the stairs to the catwalk before she can shoot him.

The ship, or ships (if the squad brought theirs) have been set down in a clearing with shin high grass. Tall trees sway slightly in a temperate, and comfortable evening wind as fauna and insects of the night croak. A blue sky segues to a golden and purple twilight of dusk in a beautiful, unpolluted display of nature with only the dark shapes of avian creatures flock somewhere off to the west.

<<"Poe here.. comm check, people.">> This was a secure, encrypted line and not broadcasted over an open net. Names were alright to use here.

"Request denied." Major Jessika Pava of the New Republic military is used to denying people requests. This one is succinct, and her tone is filled with just enough authority that it brooks no argument. The rest of it is constituted by a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. The decision is followed quickly by half a turn in her torso, and while her left hand remains slung under the barrel of her blaster rifle, the right lifts in a menacing gesture in the shape of a fist at the General that swiftly races back up the stairs to get out of her reach. "Don't sleep!" She calls after General Poe Dameron, a man many ranks her senior. Threats towards a superior officer? That's conduct unbecoming and insubordination of the highest order.

And just another day for Black Squadron. Descending the ramp of the freighter and into the forest, the poncho and fatigues the Major wears quickly start to color shift into greens and browns of varying intensity and darkness so that she's camouflaged against the backdrop of impossibly tall trees and dense foliage. Right hand returning to the pistol grip of her rifle, Jessika's index finger rides just above the trigger guard and her thumb rests steady on the selector that'll take it off if safety if she needs it. <"Ghost, Black Actual. Loud and clear."> She still doesn't use names. "At least..--," Jessika starts to say something and then shuts her mouth before the words can make it off the tip of her tongue. Nah, she's not gonna jinx it. "Ah, whatever. Alright. Detargon," She'd read his name seven times just to make sure she wouldn't jack it up when the time came. "You're on point. Five meter intervals, staggered column. Let's go."

<<Just saying, you want me to take out a whole forest, I'm gonna need more bombs, yeah?>> Ektor is drawling with clear amusement as he hops down off the Y-wing's nose, leaving his flight helmet in the pilot's chair. R2-G13 remains socketed, closing the vacant canopy as Ektor swagger-limps toward the rest of the squad. As usual, he doesn't check in properly, just rambles and expects the others to recognize him.

Fly in the Ghost? Maybe. But not THIS day. Black Seven touches down, it's glorious and daresay tempting lines - the Kuat re-design of the original RZA fighter craft settling in like a repto-avian feather, soft as silk. Silk! Though he who exits lacks in such for this day is one intended for potential conflict.

And sometimes you have to fly in armor.

Bors emerges, in full suit, visor in place, chinning a toggle while checking his rifle, <<"Bors, receiving.">> responding on the encrypted channel while making to rendevouz with the others exiting craft today. Nodding to Jessika an Ektor in turn as they come into view.

<<"Hail, Lord Ektor, M'lady Jessika! Lord Detargon! We are well met!">>

Corporal Detargon, who's still a little green and needs more experience nonetheless was judged a suitable scout to assist the special forces unit. One could say he was a little uneasy to get the slot, working with higher officers - and one of them a General! But he knows what he's been trained to do.

Hanging back to let the officers take the lead, already having checked his gear to his satisfaction, Detargon comes forward and looks ready to go.

Mr. Bones ... Detargon simply stops and /stares/ at the droid. Not like any droid he's ever seen! But, they do say SF opporators are a bit ... eccentric. On top of that, the Major speaks to the General like -that- and the Corporal gapes for a few seconds. Man, is he going to have some great stories to tell the unit when he gets back! If he gets back.

<" Sir, yes sir! Detargon copies, over. "> Keep it real simple. He comes on down the ramp, rifle in his hands and starts out into the grass. Take a deep slow breath, stay frosty.

"I won't!" Poe calls back before the hatch to the tactical room seals. Poe sits in a rolly-chair and cracks his knuckles, bringing up the screens for each helm cam, except Ektor's because he never wore one. THE PIRATE. Still, everyone checked in, and Poe brought the headset closer before donning it. <<"Good copy on all. -- Signal is still strong from the old Rebel beacon. You have a hike ahead of you. Topo shows no hills at least. I hate hills...">> He trails off.

There is no discernable path ahead, just a direction to march and a dark forest to traverse.

Entering the forest wasn't too bad, but the squad probably felt like they were being watched. Like the forest had eyes! The trip is relatively uneventful for about twenty minutes. During that span, they had to mantle over fallen trees, wade through a creek, and walk around a small lake. The next clearing they came to was one filled with mossy covered pre-fabricated structures that looked blown to hell.

It was like a small city of military structures, but it was a ghost town. Eerie quiet. Not even the birds or insects made noises here. By now, it has become dark and fireflies begin to blink here and there.

"Bones, audio vocalization volume to fifteen percent." Jessika addresses the last bit of business to conduct as they're stepping off. The grass rustles against her pant legs and boots, the latter of which permanently bend the stalks of grass in ways that definitively speak to the passing of people. This close to the ship, it won't matter. There's a giant freighter sitting in the clearing. It won't take long before the grass will make way for foliage that she can avoid disturbing as much as possible. Less than five minutes, in fact, before it's soft soil and decaying leaves and needles dropped off the surrounding trees and underbrush. She avoids stepping to close to the woodage to avoid crunching brittle sticks underneath her soles.

It's helpful, too, to avoid bending branches or accidentally snapping bush limbs that'll inevitably pass on the knowledge that they've trekked through a location. Jessika is silent save for the slightly labored breathing that comes from exerting herself over the simple, but thick terrain. They don't use cutting tools of any kind to make the passing easier, only find the path of least resistance. The longer they go on, though, the more Jessika is unsettled. She hates it. She hates it in the way that there's a hint of nausea in the pit of her stomach. To those traveling behind her, she lifts her left hand in a gesture to halt, arm bent at the elbow and fist clenched. <"Halt,"> Jessika whispers into the microbead so the forward scout leading point can also hear. She avoids using anything with an ess sound. It's a noise that carries harder than others because of how it's naturally drawn out. Her hands motion towards the structures, indicative of the squadron to move closer to them rather than standing in any kind of funnel between the structures. She herself approaches one, but doesn't get right against it. Projectiles travel down straight walls, and she'd rather not get clipped by something.

<"Got anything?"> She can't see anything standing out. But she's sure as drek slipping the selector of her weapon from safe to ready to rock. Where's the ambient noise? Where's the bugs? The animal calls? It's quiet. Too rekking quiet.

Ektor climbs and trudges and wanders through the woods toward their destination, chuckling at the sight of the lake. Muttering, "Jess, the squad finally gets a mission to a nice little lake and we got drek for swim suits, yeah?" He adds, as an afterthought, "Oh, and unless the wind talks in whispers, we got some kinda company in the trees over there." The left side. "Maybe the right, too, but the ear don't work so good on that side."

The look of such construction within the forest of Sanctuary Moon... THE NERVE. Such a place resplendent and mostly natural, blighted thus. And abandoned too by the look of it. That it was not removed by Empire or Alliance, allowed to soil the grounds and be claimed by forest lands? Unconscionable.

An offense too grand.

And one not to be bothered with presently when Bors comes to a stop a moment before Jessika's hand comes up, head remaining forward, rifle down, but his eyes are moving behind the visor that hides his features (A TRAVESTY), <<"Ground cover movement, tall growth on village perimeter.">> adopting the lack of sibilant sounds as best he can.

Hunkering now to pick at something on the ground, adjust a strap of his boot and keep his eyes peeled to the best of his ability. Already activity, a good sign. Maybe. Probably not.

Ugh.

The corporal at least knows his woodcraft somewhat. He too glides quietly through the grass and into the trees as they make their way deeper, further away from the ship. Detargon is silent, watchful, looking this way and that as he makes progress on point. Watching as carefully as he may for traps and avoiding anything that could possibly look like a path, even an animal trail. His life could depend on it.

He scents the air as best as a human man's nose may do, ears sharp for sounds, pausing irregularly to simply stand very still and take in everything around himself. Then he gets moving again. He is careful where he sets his feet, stooping low to duck beneath a low limp, or easing his way around bramble even if it takes longer than pushing his way through.

The sense of being watched grows. The little hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle. And then, the structures are up ahead.

With Jessica behind him, Detargon misses her hand single but he stops as soon as he hears her over his coms. Instantly still, patient. His only movement then is to look back for hand signals. A nod, then he eases out among the ruins of the buildings. The ultra quiet isn't natural at all, makes him edgy.

Hearing Ektor, Detargon at least has enough sense not to look to their left. Not yet. Then Bors speaking up as well. Instead he opens his coms and says softly, <" Found the beacon. "> Detargon checks to see who's still in his line of sight and makes a hand motion to indicate the cairn of stones and the tall, slender rod.

They are not alone.

<<"..voLUME OVERRIDE. GREAT DESTROYER, THE ORGANIC LIEUTENANTS ARE CORRECT IN THEIR ANALYSIS OF THIS SQUAD'S CURRENT SITUATION. WE ARE SURROUNDED.">> Mr. Bones pumps to prime his shotgun up as thermal photo-receptors pick up multiple targets. <<"VIOLENT FAUNA INCOMING! REQUEST PERMISSION TO CRUSH OUR FOES!">> Yells the nasally voice of the battle droid whose slim body comically stood when others took cover. It wasn't the Mr. Bones was inept, but stealth was not within his programming. Ironically enough, his programmer, Snap Wexley, was the greatest recon pilot of his generation, yet this is the product of a recon oriented mind!

Regardless, Bones was right. A pack of Boar-Wolves came out of the woods, barking and gnashing teeth as they nipped and played with each other while hastily closing the distance to the squad. Five (5) in total closed from various angles, and could be seen in the night as large, lumbering shadows!

They have indicators to the nine and three, as well as to the twelve. Jessika wonders if that means they've also got it on their six. Detargon comes over the bead to reveal that he's found the beacon, but Jessika doesn't do anything. Not yet. She certainly doesn't step off in the direction of the cairn of stones or the slender rod. <"Stack,"> Jessika orders over the net, moving with careful, deliberate considerations. Soft dirt comporesses under her soles, leaving imprinted tracks bith concave and convex. Her rifle graduates to the lower ready, tucked into the pocket of her shoulder. They're not making any noise. She's not sure if what's surrounding their location is even aware of their presence. They might be able to have an element--.

Jessika nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears Bones' voice go from revved up to blaring like it's an airhorn. "GO DEACTIVATE YOURSELF," Jessika yells at the droid when the brush suddenly goes wild and animals burst forth out of the foliage. She's genuinely pissed off, which probably explains why the snap up of the barrel and the little hesitation between the alignment of her optic and the eased squeeze of the trigger is so short. The forest was quiet. The sound of Jessika's BlasTech A280 Blaster Rifle is almost louder than the droid's voice. It doesn't just hit the creature. It punches through flesh, bone, and brain matter to blow it out the other side, sending a muck of biological matter spraying across the ground. It's mostly blackened from the intense heat of the blast, but some of it is gooey and smoking. Like the head of the creature when it simply collapses into a heap and comes sliding to a stop as the dirt spreads apart around the muzzle that smashes into the ground.

Ektor doesn't have a helmet on, or a rifle in hand as drek hits the metaphorical fan. When Bones and Jessika have their shouted exchange and Boar wolves emerge, he adds with keen tactical insight: "GAH. Giant hairy death pigs!" His pistol is in hand in the blink of a giant hairy death pig's eye, but Ektor's initial shots are erratic and only one hits its mark.

A clenching sensation! Knees going knocked and eyes wide at the exclamation of the cantankerous droid! But Jessika has said it best by the time Bors has thought to make his own response. His own blaster bolts joining with the sudden fusillade at the charge of the leathery skinned canid monsters.

<<"ZOUNDS!!!">> Such language Bors, really? Could you be less coarse dear man? How uncouth!

But he is moving in a sudden churning of earth and fallen tree litter to find a place he can try to dodge around the giant beasts that come their way, arms moving of their own accord to put a blaster bolt into the center of mass just below the slavering muscle. Flesh and tissue burned away as the bolt sears between clavicle and rib to strike the heart of the one injured by Ektor and then swinging to the next to vaporize muzzle in a spray of red hot bone and flash boiled liquid - choking it and sending it rolling to the ground in a summersault when it's face digs into the ground.

<<"ZOOKS!">> Potty mouth.

Bless his mother! Mr Bones was way further back and forgotten. The droid makes Corporal Detargon jump and nearly piss himself! Then the boar wolves come out...

Sure he's seen boar wolves before. But not so many charging /him/ before. Still, whether he's wet his pants or not, Detargon keeps his wits long enough to put his rifle muzzle on target as one of the huge beasts bares it's maw and comes at him. Standing his ground, the scout fires twice rapidly, then dives to try and roll the heck out of it's path! Still alive, injured or dead, he doesn't want to be in it's way when momentum keeps it coming. Thankfully it crashes dead with a crump to the ground that he can feel all the way up through his combat boots to his spine. Better that than being crushed.

<" Got one! ">

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! CHIIIIICK-CHUCK.

A gleaming orange canister is ejected from the chamber of the battle droid's weapon as it blasts the face off the remaining beast with enough kinetic energy from the shotgun to carry the animal away from its intended path to thunderously fall over in a pile of violence and death. <<"TARGETS ELIMINATED, GREAT DESTROYER! MORE UNIDENTIFIED TARGETS.. SMALLER.. CUTE. CAN I KILL THEM TOO?">> The compensator of the shotguns massive barrel is still orange hot and steaming when the nasally voiced battle droid took a battle stance and held its ground against a small hunting party of...

"YUB YUB.. YUB YUB!" An Ewok yells, waddling closer and looking excited but not dangerous. Its companions are saying other gibberish, waddling closer to the beacon where they've stacked stones like reverent cairns. "HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...HUUUUUUUUUUUMMM!" One says, bowing to the beacon and giving.. thanks? Thanks for what?

The other Ewoks come to the Republic soldiers and point at them. "HOOCHIWAKA...YUB YUB.." Then points to the beacon, "WAKA-LAKA LUKA WAKA-HAKA!" The cute fuzzy thing makes more hand motions and the other Ewoks point to the forest.

Was that thunder? The sound of a tree branch breaking? A tree breaking?

<<"Uhh.. guys, there's something BIG coming your way.. and fast. Thermals are off the charts!">>

"Yub Yub!" The Ewoks motion, waving the troopers forward and pointing in the direction of the sound. It seems they called in the cavalry to help them with a problem. And that problem was marching this way!

"Bones! Silence your vocoder, now! I'll send you back to the rekking ship the next time you compromise us like that!" Jessika's fuming about the situation, but there's little she can do now that the blue milk is spilled. There's a small pang of regret whe nit comes to laughing at the droid, too. It is, after all, all they have left of a lost friend. Huffing out a forced sigh, Jessika's angered features snap to the little creatures waddling out of the forest and beginning to congregate around the cairn and the squadron. She knows them to be Ewoks only because this moon is so famous amongst the Republic's troops. This is where it had happened, after all. Where Luke Skywalker had stopped the Emperor and the Republic had destroyed the Death Star a second time. She knows them to be friendly. Somewhat.

And she has absolutely no clue what the rekk they're talking about. "Anyone speak teddy bear?" It's Poe's voice over the communications net that clues her into something. That and a distant thumping. A cracking of trees and screeching of barked trunks as they're pushed and forced asunder by something. "Everyone get into defensive cover! Up on that building!" Jessika snaps her hand towards it, fingers straightened and thumb alongside them to form a blade that indicates what she means. She's already heading for it to see if they can get into it and clear it before the time is on them.

Ektor peers at the Ewons as the little waddling mammals emerge. "What the hell?" he mutters, his good eye narrowing as the opposite brow lifts. Then crashing in the trees- THROUGH the trees- and he amends, "Oh, COME ON. What the rekking drek is that? That's it, next time I'm just flying my Wishbone to the site. None if this marching and shooting blasters at.. Whatever *that* is." As Jess plots out an intelligent defense, Ektor nods along, and unslings his backpack, drawing out- why Ektor is carrying a small concussion warhead is anyone's guess, but he is. "Gonna blow some drek up, Jess. Be right back!" He picks a slot between the advancing WHATEVER, and Jessika's chosen defensive position. "If I can't bring a Y-wing, I can still bring the boom." Y-wings don't even mount concussion missiles, Ektor! <<Boom is live- boom is live!>> as he hurry-hobbles toward the rest of the team.

<<"Oh. Oh bother.">> Bors looks up and up and up again, slightly to one side as well so as not to get a view right down the line to the Main Event. He doesn't need that. No one needs that, truth told. The Ewoks present would be an absolute delight, a fanciful one assuming they had no intention to horrifically murder and consume them. Ektor would provide the worst meal - sure he was rippling with proper muscle rich for consumption but soaked in alcohol and drugs certainly. The liver a thing better used as a door stop, the heart a ragged thing, likely swollen in places. Unfortunate.

The new man? Unknown, but perhaps a good starter. Too soon to really determine. Jessika? Touch too tough, most like. So much stress and suppressed anger likely bitters the meat and the tension likely to render the meat needing far too much tenderizing before even cooking.

Bors? That's a meal. Relaxed, pleasant, good diet, regular exercise, the benefits of Lordship of an Alderaanian house allotting him an excess of body massage on demand? A tender, sweet morsel fit for kings. The most prime of meals. For certain, and a handsome face to gaze upon before the open flames curled skin to crackling black char, golden monocle fusing to the bone. But such fine bone structure beneath? Still art to gaze upon. Surely. Art -and- a meal.

<<"Daresay, Testor, I think they wish us harken to whatever causes such destruction in the forest that Pretty Boy has chased with warning of excessive size encroaching on our position!">> how is he able to speak so when he's running for the location that Jessika is pointing out? But talk he does and hustles same. He may even scamper to find such a place to take at her direction. But not prance. No.

Prancing is for Rist and their filth. He still has a starry eye for the Ewoks. <<"Positioning!">> For cover and line of sight. Naturally.

It's only proper. Especially for one so delicious.

Oh boy, now they are in for it! - Ewoks! - Thankfully they come bumbling out and seem /happy/ and not attacking. Detargon, turns, whipping his rifle around to cover them, but holds his fire. He watches their antics with the becon and blinks, <" What the... "> Coms discipline, boy.

Distracted by the fuzzballs, it takes a second for their scout to realize there are bigger issues of concern.

The sound of thunder makes the Corporal freeze. He hears a distant tree crash, hears the notice over their coms. Detargon imagines what that could be from his training and says, <" Oh drek. "> Famous last words, right?

Yes, cover! The Corporal snaps out of his momentary daze and starts humping his arse in the direction the Major orders. Jess doesn't have to tell the scout twice. Though if Ektor has explosives, that'll move Detargon even a little faster still! Thankfully he's not privy to Bors' mental appraisals. No time for it.

Up he goes. The scout is fit and young, agile when motivated. His combat boots dig in and inside he goes, looking at once for a good firing position. It would help though if he had a clue which direction the thing was coming from, wouldn't it?

The team is settled, save for Ektor, who is now hobble running back from the tree line that suddenly parts as a 40ft tall being emerges from the dark shadow of the forest to tower above everything in this clearing. The Ewoks pull up a rope to try to trip the Gorax, whose grunt sounds like a low rumble of thunder. Each step drags the pair of Ewoks who foolishly hang onto the rope.

The Gorax sees Ektor, and following after him, he begins to run as well.. right onto the active warhead Ektor armed.

A bright light consumes the area behind Ektor as a sudden wave of concussion sweeps out over the field and trees, and travels like an ocean wave across the forest. All sound is lost for a few moments, before a massive explosion shakes the ground, erupting like a volcano of dust, dirt, and organic matter. It's not clear WHAT happened to the Ewoks, but the lumbering shadow of the Gorax can be seen THROUGH the blast, where it was KNOCKED from its feet and sent back into the forest where a series of 1000 year old trees broke its fall.

The Gorax is slow to rise back up. It's missing its arm.

An Ewok settles next to Jess, hugging her leg and hiding its face, trembling. "Chiimaka!"

The Gorax is pissed now, and its using its own severed arm to swing about like a weapon.

<"GHOST, BLACK ACTUAL. WE HAVE A MAJOR ISSUE HERE,"> Jessika doesn't bother trying to keep it down. The tall, grotesque creature literally cracking trees apart and forcing them to the side as its girth forces through the dense forest is enough to give Jessika just a slight pause. She's not even trying to make a joke when she says the issue is major. <"THIS REKKING THING IS FOUR STORIES OR SOMETHING. WE MAY NEED HELP."> Finding a beacon out in the middle of the forest? Fine. Aiding a tribe of undersized mammals fight off something that could step on the entire tribe with one of its feet? Not quite the job description for today. That doesn't stop her from actively engaging it. "STAY BACK FROM THE LEDGE. SHOOT FROM A DISTANCE." She has to shout to be heard over the noises this creature is causing with its lumbering about. Even the building itself is picking up the tremors in the ground and translating it through its frame. The hope is that they'll be able to sit far enough back on the roof to both shoot the thing and stay out of its range, with the building acting as a natural kind of fence between it and them. Hopefully. Jessika's not going to hold her breath about it.

Ektor has a dumb, crooked grin on his face as the detonation washed out the rest of the world for several moments. And the best part? "Heh.. can't hear nobody tell at me, yeah?" Recovering his old civil war era blaster pistol, he unloads a barrage of wild shots that strike the beast as much for the target's staggering size as for Ektor's marksmanship. "Hey, Buh-Bors! Looks like if he UNHANDs his weapon the rekker would be DISARMED, yeah? YEAH?"

<<"Oh. That's fantastic.">> muttered at the sight of the explosion. Really it is amazing to gaze upon the display. Rarely are such munitions observable without having to take cover.

Then a limb slinging hairy monstrosity that survived the explosions of Ektor. It's a horrifying thing to gaze upon. Jessika is yelling and he can't remember the last time he's heard her yell. Really. Calling upon every fiber of his upbringing, his training, his long years of service in the Republic SFO. His time within Black Squadron.

The things he has seen.

<<"AHHHHHHHHH!">> finger squeezing the firing stud, that's the best option, fire and fire again! Try to fire faster than possible with such a weapon. Then Ektor is joking and it pulls him right out of it.

<<"Indeed M'lord! I'd go out on a LIMB and say the poor sot should get a better GRIP on himself eh? EH">> Ahh. They have fun.

Well, actually, 40 feet tall isn't that big for a Gorax, nor huge compared to trees on Endor. But, the Corporal isn't pointing that out. Detargon is scared half out of his wits. The explosion comes and he ducks his head down, the shockwave impressive! When he finally dares to look, his mouth hangs open at what he sees!

This can't be real. Let's hope and pray it's not. His MRE's must have gotten moldy! That would explain it! Alas, if only. The corporal raises his rifle and fires it twice - as if /that/ were going to do any good! What a joke! It's hard to miss something that big but he does on the second shot. Rattled, that's what. He falls back when ordered, not eager to be any closer to the thing than he has to. Run like hell would also suit him! Somehow, the scout doesn't shame himself by cutting and running even if it crosses his mind. <" Oh God. "> It figures that the special forces oporators are cracking jogs. Everybody says they are crazy nutjob adrenaline junkies. They're right!

Mister Bones remains out in the open where an Ewok rides upon his back. He had complied with Jessika's demand, and turned his vocoder down. So despite the chaos of what's transpired, the team hears in a soft nasally voice in the distance, in between the pauses. "Oh No. You are blocking my photo-receptors fuzzy, ally. Remove your organic paws from my face!" BOOOOOOOOOOM! What a waste of a shot, Bones negligently discharged into the air trying to frighten the teddy bear off his face, but now the damned thing was hanging on. A quiet yell follows as the droid charges in A direction. "..ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

That's not even the best part. Ektor has not made it to the building where all the fire from the squad originates. No, he's still in the open, and the victim of a massive bloody arm that smashes the ground NEAR him, then it WHOOSHES over his head, then it SMASHES the Ewok waddle running away from Ektor into the ground like a rekking BUG.

"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" The giant screams, angered that he missed the hobbling idiot getting away from him.

It's chaos. Dirt chunks the size of the boar wolves are flying up into the air as the Gorax uses its destroyed limb as a club. Jessika watches as Ewoks get crushed and pulped, and very nearly watches Ektor get the business end of the arm, too. That man is the luckiest man she has ever seen. ..Second luckiest man she has ever seen. She doesn't have time to worry about him, though. The creature is still advancing and wreaking havoc. Jessika stops her brain from its lightspeed thought processes and takes a knee. Sweat drips down the nape of her neck and her temples. The night is hot despite everything. Or maybe it's just the adrenaline has her system so amped up that it's the way her heart beat is pounding just as fast and surging blood through her arteries.

She forces herself to exhale hard, then inhale deep. Exhale hard. She's forcing her breathing to slow down. Her hand reaches out and reaffirms its grip on the underside of her blaster rifle. She braces the back of her elbow just forward of her knee, ensuring its a brace and not a pivot point. She tucks the blaster rifle's stock into her shoulder as firmly as possible, and then she sights down her optic to get a look at the Gorax. It's screaming. The stench is atrocious. But there, in the folds of its face, are eyes gleaming from the forest ablaze around them. Who knows how much of it will burn because of Ektor's bomb. She's not going to even try to explain it. The top priority now is surviving. Surviving means focusing. Inhale. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale.

There's nothing left. There's just a deadness in her chest, until she can feel her pulse beating and almost hear it in her ears. Throb. Throb. Throb. Jessika centers her reticle on the creature's eye, and waits again. Throb. Throb. Throb. As soon as the last throb ends, her finger eases against the trigger. The blaster rifle doesn't budge an inch. It screams as it sends a super frozen lance of tibanna gas racing from its barrel. That lance punches right through the Gorax's eye socket and straight through the thin layer of bone separating the occipital cavity from the main housing. It's hide might be tough, but it's brain? Not enough to stop a blaster bolt.

The Gorax smashes into the ground with the force of a dozen of Endor's trees falling to dirt, and Jessika can feel the rattle of it through her teeth.

Ektor mutters, "Drek," as he sees the raging one-armed monstrosity charge through a withering storm of blaster fire, fixing it's bloodied eyes on HIM. "Drek!" Hurry hobble faster! WHOMP, and Ektor is briefly knocked off his feet by the force of a missed swing slamming into the ground near him. He scrambled back to his feet, and gets moving juuuust in time to avoid being squashed by a second swing. "DREK," and he throws himself to the side to avoid a third. He's facing up from the forest floor as Jessika's final shot blasts the life from the monstrous behemoth. The Gorax wavers, topples, and falls... forward. "Eh, rekk me," Ektor grumbles in an 'of course' sort of way. One more frantic scramble to survive before the collosal impact throws up all matter of detritus (including Ektor). His voice can be heard between labored breaths moments later. "...I'm good. ...Thanks, Jess. ....You're the best."

A momentary pause in all of the madness, with arms being smashed down on the ground, poor ewoks splatted... the datapad on Bors's hip vibrates (no sound on mission, old man!) and a moment is spared to look at the information listed on his HUD, with a weather eye for the chaos before them. But this... THIS... might be the real mission, lads and lasses.

<<"OH! I say! That Mandalorian woman what was at the attack at my Princess's estate when ruffians had come to attack has written me back!">> Jubilations!!! <<"Pretty Boy!">> a moment spared for the sight of the creature blasted to such effect by the Lady Major, he had no doubt of her impending destruction of the enemy, <<"My Lord, hence the conflict o'er Codru's end I may need to put in for a brief leave - it is seeming that I may be taking a vacation to a leisure world!">>

Everything is exploding and causing mild ground tremors from the weight of its fall, Bors is trying to set up a destination vacation-date? <<"I've still got it I see!">> charming rascal. The impact of the beast striking ground, the earth and plant matter pushed up like waves to either side and the force that causes the Alderaanian to stumble a step backwards and nearly go over onto his backside - it brings him back to the here and now. So there is that at the least.

<<"Dare say? Tion old boy! Doest thou still draw breath!?">> there are still puns to be made. So many. OH But he's talking, <<"Joyous! That was an IMPACTFUL altercation, m'lord!">>

These people are /insane/. Well, except for the Major. She's an amazing shot with that four foot long boomstick! Boom, baby! Detargon can't hardly believe his eyes. The Gorax is DEAD ALREADY. He stopped backing off and just stands there staring, eyes a little too big. Their scout listens to Bors going on about a date or something on a leisure world while /Detargon's/ personal world almost ended. Heart tripping like a hammer.

Breathe. Slow it down. Cautiously he goes to the edge of the ledge and looks just to see if it really is dead. Very quietly he finally says, <" I'd like another assignment. Not on Endor. ">

In the aftermath of this extraordinary encounter, the sound of a ship becomes prevalent, and its spot light comes to life shining down over the field of battle. There's a warbling over the intercom before Poe's voice is projected from the Ghost. <<"Couldn't have said it better myself, buddy. That is one UGLY huttsucker. Everyone alright?">>

In the background, in a lover's soft voice, Mister Bones is spartan kicking a tree. "..ahhhhhhhh!"