Log:Jedi Order: Battle of Aridus
Jedi Order: Battle of Aridus
OOC Date: August 29, 2019
Location: Aridus
Participants: Jedi Order: Rey, Syrus, Yuun, Zandra naMuriel, Elrych Cometburn and Angouri Dros; Resistance: Greeson Rais, Lofty, and Merek; Knights of Ren: Kylo Ren, Oran Arcantael, and Erisi Auslese; First Order: Hadrix Rol, Karys, and Saanvi
ARIDUS
The air burns with a fervent heat above a massive pool of lava. The surface bubbles and pops in slow motion as noxious gases rise slowly through the molten rock, disturbing the thin layer of semisolid slag that lies atop it. A large grey skiff, cut from sharp, utilitarian angles, hovers low above the surface, partially over the lava, partially over the sand, its flat, expansive deck relatively unpopulated but for a man in black and a small contingent of black-armored soldiers and robed figures.
And there, out on a narrow plank of durasteel, a small red-grey furred creature in restraints. A growling, spitting snarl of hot plasma ignites behind her as Kylo's booted foot steps out onto the near end of the plank, the lightsaber held in his hand. "Angouri Dros, you follow the teachings of the Jedi, and refuse to turn them over to us. For crimes against the galaxy, I sentence you to death."
Information has exchanged hands, its been sought after and received, decoded and deciphered, and... the rush was on, the rush to get to the location before it was too late!
As the situation near the lava pits of Aridus unfolds, another one ariases. A disc-shaped YT-freighter soars out of the sky and with a roar of its powerful engines it drops low over the desert sands, kicking up a wake of dirt, rock and debris behind it as it compensates for the gravitational pull and rises back up again!
The ventral turret beneath the freighter starts to move and it suddenly comes to life, pelting the sands with quad-cannon laser fire as it screams over-head of everyone out here! Its cannons only blast the surface of Auridus though, kicking up clouds of vision-hazing smoke and cinder!
From the west, a new sight comes, after the Millennium Falcon provides a diverseion, a series of landspeederse scream across the desert and the arrival of... the cavalry is on?
Aboard the lead landspeeder, Rey pulls her guggles down over her eyes and narrows them as she reaches to her belt. "There they are." She says over the comms to everyone with her. "Ground troops, we're going to need cover fire against the First Order's forces. Jedi... stick close together. Our goal is to retrieve our friend, and then get out of here. We're NOT here to end the First Order, or its corrupted leader. We're here for our friend."
With that said, Rey raises up and once the landspeeders are close enough, she leaps from them to land on the sandy surface, drawing the Skywalker saber from her belt...
Leaping from his speeder along with Rey, the large kiffar Syrus lands with saber in hand, its emerald blade snapping to its terminal length as he lights on the ground.
He stands up and straightens, his arm whipping the blade down and to his side. "Agents of the First Order. We're here to negotiate the release of our dear friend," the Kiffar speaks, the tip of his blade thrumming softly above the crystaline ground. "Though you should note that 'demand' might be more at home in our current situation."
Elrych Cometburn steps out of the speeder along side Rey and Syrus, wind cover guarding his face from the hot desert air. Dark black sunglasses look on yowards the enemy, glowing blue as he ignights his own lightsaber. He however says nothing.
"Leave it to these 'friends' to leave a rescue until the absolute last moment." A hand sweeps up from out of a robed pocket to disappear within said hood, wrist and arm moving slightly before traipsing back down to the figures side. Fingers flick off moisture which is eaten up by the heated air around Erisi, a soft exhalation escaping her lips as she watches more folks join the fray. She rocks back on her heels, glancing to another robed figure in the grouping, head canting just so.
One of those dark, hooded figures on the skiff is perhaps unpleasantly recognizable to those who have met him before. Oran Arcantael, Coruscant-born Knight of Ren and generalized nuisance, is here with Kylo and the rest of his people. Not that there are so many in this cadre of evil to fill the skiff -- there's a lot of flat, empty deck space surrounding the dark group.
Oran raises a hand to shield his eyes from dust as the ship screaming through atmo makes a drive-by, then the speeders approach at break-neck speed and he lets one corner of his mouth curl up into a smile. His red saber ignites with a snap-hiss, then hums through the air with an ominous 'vwoommmm!' as he gives it a brief spin. "Love a party," Oran remarks, then calls out toward a familiar voice, over the sound of vehicles, "How /are/ you, Syrus? It's been a minute!"
Stick close together? Right then. Zandra sticks close together with her friends, also jumping off the speeder and freeing it up to do whatever it is needing to. She's got goggles for this sandy planet, hood up, well, for as long as it will stay that way, and light saber in hand, ready to go. The trip out is spent quietly, and right now, she simply moves with the others, using her senses to try to be ready for whatever comes next. She glances at those who speak, both Syrus and Oran, her expression set, shoulders square.
Angouri Dros is standing on a plank above a pit of lava: her ears are pinned back against her head, but her face remains void of expression. She makes a picturesque prisoner, ready to face the inevitability of death with a shred of dignity... But she has never done a thing quietly before, and doesn't see fit to begin now. "Seems a whole lotta trouble fer little ol' me." She answers Kylo Ren, raising her voice to be heard above the violent whoosh of volatile gases. "S'a bit dramatic, ain't it? I feel special, y'know I wasn't expectin' such a grand send-off. Makes a gal feel like proper royalty, huh? Bet you ain't ever had a party this big in yer honor. Hope there's good drinks." Should anyone have the grace to look closer, they would see her small form shaking.
And then the skies roar, and in a jolt of surprise, Angouri almost unseats herself - is that the Falcon?! "Well, kriff on a stick, Mr. Ren!" The restrained padawan can't help but laugh as the relief washes over her. "Looks like they /would/ chance a rescue after all! Shucks, I'm terribly sorry if I gave you th'wrong impression." Towards the Jedi she shouts a quick: "I'm sorry!"
Yuun had been quiet during the speeder ride here, as Rey give them their orders, Yuun looks to everyone. "Remember what she said." he says to them all. "We cover one another as best we can." he states and as the speeder comes to a stop, Yuun steps off the speeder and walks up towards where Rey and the others are, allowing himself to remain calm or trying to. With the training they all received he couldn't erase the jitters, but he is able to hold himself still.
His lightsaber is taking off his belt but not ignited, not yet. As Syrus speaks up going for the diplomatic approach. A slow nod of approval at this. He glances to the others who are here with them the Resistance stood with them, this made him feel better, they are all looking out for one another, still now his attention focuses their mission.
Lofty is riding in the rear non-Jedi speeder with a massive bowcaster in his paws. The hot wind of the desert lava pits whips through his woolly wool. He wears the standard Alliance trooper armor, with a green-brown helmet, and some body armor barely fitting over his torso. His bowcaster is attached by a strap. When the speeder stops, the Talz awkwardly hops out and takes a firing position. The hot-yet-solidified flows of lava around the lava pit are uncomfortable for his sensitive footpads.
Greeson Rais, he of abnormal height and prissy demeanour, had been deployed from his speeder around seven-hundred-odd metres before it reached the target. Covering fire from a disc-shaped freighter left smoke plumes and made wonderful visual cover for the soldier that wasn't joining the main assault force and instead moving perpendicular, crouching low and carrying with him enough ordinance to punch a hole in a small moon (or a space station but that is either semantics or a pissing contest). His armor camo matched the sand, he had a face mask, goggles, unobtrusive-to-scopes helmet, because that red hair would otherwise be a beacon, his service weapon, and a big honkin' cannon of a rifle that was best suited for killing armor. Oh, and tea. It was uncouth to not have a small tea thermos on hand for emergencies.
Given the situation, flat land plus melty goo was not the ideal environment for his talents, he preferred elevation and also some cover, but hey you gotta work with what you got. "Positioning," he murmured into his commlink, that odd combination of Imperial and former-prison-colony accent at play. He moved behind the dust clouds, far from the main group, and when the dust clouds started to dissipate he hit the deck. Then he started playing with the killer's version of a toy, assembling the sniper rifle from its four component pieces into one long tube of get-thee-hence.
He deployed the bipod, levelled the rifle, and peered down the scope. The weapon could hit out to just under a mile, and Gree was just above half that. With any luck, he was all set. "In place, call high value targets."
At flank guard position the Spearhead turns, face concealed behind the sensor suites and plating of the armored helm that turns in mimicry of the head below in the armored cowling nestled between outsized pauldrons and thickened breastplate.
Hadrix doesn't speak, but there is a sudden tension in him, shifting as if suddenly breathing harder, leaned forward, right arm coming up with a pilot light engaging, the other out slightly as the massive form hunches forward. External speakers snap and then crackle with a snarl that sounds downright feral and made only more animalistic as it is distorted by the vocalizer speakers and emphasized as flame bursts from jets along the 'pack' on his as they prime for action, stirring a localized twist of wind in his immediate vicinity. He's only waiting for things to begin and the fire order to be given.
Saanvi's helmed head swivels at the noise. She is of course not far from where Black robed figures and prisoner. Her blaster is yanked out of it's holster and powered on. Where she had been facing the prisoner and plank she turns her back and faces the outside <<Objectives in our present encounter, Team Lead?>> Her blaster lifted but not yet setting on a particular target.
Merek shifts his goggles about the scarf which he wears, his armor black with crimson from that digital camouflage, while he takes a moment to pull into a spin, then he's taking his 718 into a hand while he maneuvers to land upon his feet while he stands up to look to the First Order. He shifts one of his feet to the other while he takes a stance, his pistol shifted above that with a little spin, "Copy that," he says then to Rey.
"Are any of you willing to listen? Look at what you serve, the Order born from the Empire, when you saw the lights shine upon the Hosnian system, did you not actually question what it is you serve? Is the programming within your mind so that it keeps you from changing? I changed, you can too, entire planets, what were they all worth?" he asks. "We don't want to fight, we never asked for all this." The knight looks to those that are about with a nod also.
The heat rising up from the bubbling lava below reflects off the dark visor of one of the several dark armored vanguard. The rich red glow of the lightsaber crackles to life, her head turns slightly and her weight shifts slowly from foot to foot. The sudden roar of engines as the freighter do away with the serious moment of a rather important sentence brings the KS-0218 about with intent. Fingers curl about the pistols at her hips and she pulls them free though shots at a freighter are going to do nothing. Its what comes after that brings the soldier about. Fingers curl past the guards and right against the triggers as the array of Jedi and compatriots of the scum Resistance make themselves known. The movements of Hadrix beside her and then turns her head towards Saanvi.
She begins to make note of each figure that arrives, the sabers bursting to life are counted beneath her breath, a hot reminder as it reflects back at her inside her helmet. She waits for focused fire calls.
When the Falcon soars overhead, there's a split emotion that jolts through the tall man in black as he watches it pass, mingled anger and satisfaction. "It's not for you," he answers Angouri flatly, turning from the gangplank and striding towards the edge of the skiff that juts out over the sand. "It's for them."
A powerful leap carries him over the side, no railing to stand in his way to begin with, and he hurtles down towards the girl he's gone to all this effort to lure out, his saber hurtling in a wicked arc towards her head, smashing into the other blade with a flash and growl. The fight is on.
"I am well, my friend. I hope you are the same," is Syrus's admittedly clipped response to Oran. Despite it's curtness, his intent is not dishonest. His grip tightens around his lightsaber and his countenance becomes a troubled, if not hardened one. A man resigning himself to the likely hard-fought battle ahead. Noting Kylo's leap into action, Syrus laments that diplomacy has failed and rushes headlong toward the skiff. Singling in on Oran, the Kiffar's blade whips out toward the Coruscanti in a flurry of attack. Anyone studying the styles would instantly recognize it as a Makashi stance; his feet wide apart and whipping behind and in front of each other as his off-hand tucks neatly into the small of his back.
Rey's heavier exterior robe flutters around her form in the hot desert winds, its babby (but elbow length) sleeves whip against her arms as she ignites her reforged lightsaber and the brilliant blue beam rises up just as she sees Kylo making a mad dash for her, ignoring everything vocalized toward him... she's not surprised one bit.
Her eyes narrow behind her goggles (the same she'd had on Jakku) and she makes a dash toward HIM now to raise her blade to deflect his first attack, and then the subsequent ones to follow it.
She then sets forward on him and clashes blade against blade, several strikes before she rolls away in the sand and comes back up without her exterior robe on, only her tan-hued clothing beneath it, with the draping fabric of the skirt around her waist now flowing in the heated winds.
With a moment of distance between them, Rey glares at Kylo. "This is madness! Everything you've created is based on a lie!" She shouts at him, strands of her dark hair waving against her brow as she raises her blue blade up to aim its point toward the blue sky with a hungry growl of energy. "You said you wanted to get rid of the past, and now you're simply repeating it!" She charges at him again to raise her saber up for another strike!
Elrych Cometburn looks to Erisi, eues hidden behind those shades of his. She was snotty, but the attention that the stormtrooper gets when he makes one of the most ludicros statements the Jedi has ever heard, causes him to flick out his wtist and pick up a few bolders, letting them fly towards the trooper.
Erisi bursts out laughing, a hand coming up to her belly, "Mr. Ren? Where in the holy high hells did you crawl out of, a bantha pen?" Into a pocket the short arsed woman goes, rummaging before pulling out a datapad, gloved fingers tapping a few times, "Can you repeat that? I want that as my notification tone, Mr. Bloody Ren, let's go to bantha town and rustle us up some poh-tater-tawts." A throaty laugh, Eri's shoulders swaying from side to side as the battle begins, "I don't know why everyone always insists on monologuing their issues ..." Up the datapad goes as Erisi laments, an unseen waggle of a brow slanted towards Angouri, "Now, say that thing again, 'kriff on a stick, Mr. Ren!', but like, more saucily --"
But some weak arsed boulders fly towards Saanvi and Erisi parts some unseen look from under her hood, head turning to see who has what weapon wise on the other side, taking in Elrych with no meta-thoughts to guide anything other than a voiced, "Dude, she's a /medic/, what the --" A brief and very quick look of apology is given to the prisoner who's voice she wanted to remember forever, datapad slipped back into a pocket as Erisi's free hand launches a volly of flames procured from the lava all around them, missing TERRIBLY, "Stuck up bloody Jedi ..." But he gets the point, yes?
Oran rolls his eyes as Merek gives Kylo's assembled Knights and Vanguard a chance to reconsider the evil ways of the Order. Peering over the edge of the skiff for a moment, he calls down to the other Resistance and Jedi assembled, "Did you bring him here," Pointing at Merek, "So that you can throw him in lava and blame us for it?" Both brows lift. "Because if you did I just want you to know that I completely understand and I will absolutely back up your story."
No more time for snappy comments though, because there's a big man with a green blade headed his way, and it's ON as soon as Syrus neatly launches onto the skiff deck. Red meets green in a clash of fury resulting in sparks of mingled white, and Oran laughs. Anyone watching would recognize it as Tiny Dude Fighting a Huge Dude style, leaning hard into speed and not strength. One of the swings comes within a hair's breadth of real harm, and Oran smiles, suggesting in a whisper, "Get angry."
Zan starts towards Angouri, making her way there. She's actually not really looking to attack anyone, just hoping there's enough commotion to get her there without getting attacked. She blinks at the sudden volley of flame, eyes widening, and she flicks her fingers, sending more boulders flying uselessly, but they may be a distraction. Zan keeps moving, as quickly as she can. Her intent is to get to where she can free Angouri, if she can.
The scene pops off with sudden, chaotic violence and, as soon as Kylo abandons her in favor of Rey, Angouri scrambles from the plank to the solid metal of the skiff. Unarmed, paws bound, the amaran has no illussions regarding her own situation and likely mortality, so she is quick to make herself small amidst the battle, back peddling away from the charge, and Erisi with her jeers and her datapad. She needs a way out. With a snarl of anger, Angouri reaches out with sudden explosiveness, jerking her bound paws with the motion and, in a move that appears to surprise her more than anyone, ripping a sheet of metal from the side of the skiff... She has to scramble out of the way of it as she does. The cornered amaran cannot tell, in the madness, that Zandra is making their way towards her, but the panic is quickly rising.
As the action starts, Yuun reacts quickly. He wants to help Rey engage Kylo but we aren't here for him. He sees Zan moving to go help Angouri, he moves with her. "I will cover you, get her!" he calls out to her and exerting himself through the force, leaping up and over towards the skiff. Landing on the skiff and in mid-flip Yuun presses the button on his lightsaber and the snap-hiss of his lightsaber igniting as he lands in a defensive posture near Angouri, "We are going to get you out of here Angouri." eh says to her.
Lofty the Talz rises up and starts laying down cover fire as lightsabers clash. The globes flanking his bowcaster's barrel hum with magnetic energy, accelerating the bolts he fires to supersonic speeds. FWOOM FWOOM. They ignite with blaster gases and streak toward the gathering of stormtroopers, exploding lava, rock, and sand.
Flashes of light were visible in the distance, red, blue, green, all backed by the sickly red glow of molten lava. It was surprising no one had burst into flames yet. Must be hot over there. The flashes became much clearer when viewed through the scope of an anti-material rifle. Greeson moved imperceptibly, tiny movements equalled big swings in his viewing angle so he had to be precise, had to be careful. And he had to pick his short right.
The problem with fighting Jedi, or Dark Jedi, considering the situation, is that once you lost that element of surprise it was gone for good. Considering this, Gree had to make his polite introduction count. Mister Bad Haircut was tangled up with Rey, pimp duds was fighting the Kiffar giant and Mister Kiffarious was having trouble so that might be a good entrance point, Sunglasses was having a stare-off with the flaming lady, Gree was having trouble with names at the minute but y'know what his method worked, sue him. And there were troopers everywhere! Ugh, choices, and here he was with no guidance and he /really needed some tea/. What was it that young Jedi had said? Covering each other was important? Yes, that's right.
"Target acquired," he instructed over his commlink, voice quiet. He held his breath. Then, he exhaled. Slowly, gently, willing his not-yet-adrenaline-pumped heartbeat to stay that way he locked his crosshairs on the most dangerous individual currently in the brawl and gently sent them a polite greeting.
There was a blinding flash followed by the sound of a thunder crack as a beyond-speed-of-sound mass of burning plasma violently intruded on the current battle. It went in one end and out the other. Didn't even scratch the paint. In fact, all it did was say 'Hey look there's a sniper around here somewhere!' "Bugger," hissed Greeson, and weighed up the decision between moving now and later. On one hand, he was seven hundred metres away from the firefight and they were all on a tiny skiff. Time to contact... ages. On the other, air support. Gree flipped a coin internally, and came up heads. "Retargeting," was his next comm message. One more shot. Then he'd move.
<<"Vanguard, Knights can handle the Jedi. Focus on resistance scum. Defend as needed - Focus on heavy weapons and skirmish forces. Weapons are free. I want skulls! I want spines...!">> there's a wetness to his tone midway through over the comms, as if he were salivating, or foaming. His voice becoming guttural as he goes until he is practically roaring over the comms at the last. Hadrix stalks forward, movements disturbingly liquid for a figure of his size and the bulk of the armor being worn.
He doesn't stomp or clunk awkwardly into action, his entire body moves. Balance shifting as the suit works with him, practically gliding along the ground in motions that make him more the monster of children's closets than warrior. A hand lifts, pointing at Merek and his externals engage again. "You! Stop talking, turn coat! Save your air for screaming!"
A sweeping arc of liquified flame erupts from the plasma caster wielded by Hadrix, twisting through the air towards Merek, the trajectory knocked off mark by the bowcaster rounds slamming into his chest and arm, forcing him to stutter step and regroup his position.
The SMART move when a bowcaster is fired in your general cover is to run and seek substantial shelter- That is not what Saanvi does. There's a lot of activity, she had about settled on a target when the impressive report of the bowcaster. She pivots and sends two shots in retort, keeping her arm level even as crisp strides carry her towards her fallen comrade.
Merek's camouflage seems to shift into the beige and orange like the glow of that lava while he shifts back when the flamer waves to him. He then moves for cover while he lifts his pistol up, taking two shots at Hadrix while one hits also. He then speaks to his comlink, <<We have trooper in power armor with flamer, I'm uploading data to your HUD,>> which he does for Greeson also as well.
The boulder flying towards Saanvi at least misses and Karys hardly needs to be told to engage. <"Do they often seek out medics as targets? Makes me glad to be standing on this side."> That little comment is for those with the internal comms going as Knight Erisi steps forward to deal with the mess that is Elrych. Her pistols starts to swing and pick out a target in the growing chaos. As Hadrix is lit up, she narrows her gaze and points both barrels in Lofty's direction. The Talz becomes a big furry target for KS-0218. As Saanvi steps forward and begins firing, there is a focus of the deadly Vanguard on a target. This is called focus fire and they are efficient at it.
The skiff is piloted by a skeleton crew operating below decks, keeping the thing at a level low enough for the battlefield to be mobile between the sand and the deck itself, suspiciously like one would if this was a trap. It holds steady even as the Jedi board, no additional defenders pouring out from below. No TIE fighters roar overhead. Except for the skirmish, all is peaceful, the lava burbling in its pit.
Kylo's lightsaber growls in his hand, held back and low, the tip smoldering in the sand where a mound of burnt silica slowly hoves up near it. "What do you know about the past?" he retorts to Rey, the black clothing stark against the backdrop of sand. "Nothing. The stories you've heard, all lies." The blade raises to point across the space between them. "I have to wipe it clean to start over. If you won't join me, then you're in my way." Whirling in a pinwheel at his side, the lightsaber lashes out again then, its angry sparks flashing white as it clashes with Rey's blue, sizzling by her altogether too close for comfort.
"I feel nothing in this moment, my friend. The future is likely awash with sorrow, but for now I am resolute," Syrus says, leaping back in time to only catch the tip of the small man's blade across his stomach. His free hand moves across his belly and he looks to the man.
"Crash against the shore of my serenity all you wish, Oran. You will only find yourself broken upon the rocks."
The green saber is spun around easily in his large hand before it comes to a sudden stop as it's brought down over the Coruscanti Knight's head. Three more clashes send showers of sparks to the floor.
The light hued hood on Rey's clothing blows off of her head in the winds as she clashes sabers with Kylo. Her covered eyes look over to the Skiff for a brief moment to see Zandra and Yuun working their way toward Angouri but its Kylo's response that draws her gaze back to him.
As he advances she defends, flashes of sparks from colliding lightsabers lighting up the environment around them. She narrowly avoids a skillful slash from the man before she strikes back with one of her own and then shouts back at him.
"I learn more every day!" She scolds him, her saber swining around at her side before she thrusts it forward at him. "We won't stop, Ben! You'll never be able to extinguish the fire of the Resistance!"
Elrych Cometburn is on the move as the flames dance towards him, perhaps aiding in his escape from them. He sends a wave of the hand in her direction but his movement makes the aim far under perfect, instead just kicking up some boulders.
Sand clumps, or boulders, she truly hasn't a clue as she's trying to dodge, are avoided narrowly, with sand peppering all over the Knights tailored robes as she raises her arms above her head defensively, like a half-flap. Zandra's attack gets a flap-flap, and Angouri's burst of rage filled anger giving rise to a sheet of metal being ripped out and flung towards the Human, "Are you sure you're on the right side?!" She calls out to Angouri as she drops down into a crouch with her arms over her head, the least sinuous, or sensuous, of the Knight Group, all awkward limbs like a dumb newborn Bantha, "That walking coat just rage-tossed crap at me!" Insult paired with the tone of one who has deep, deep appreciation for the fact she was nearly skewered to her Pals.
"What a //rush//." Said with deep and warm desirous delight, another laugh rumbling as she stands up, hands dusting off dark tailored robes as Elrych attempts his attack against her, but it's so far off the mark that she doesn't lose focus on the Amaran. Gloved hands twist away from her robes to turn palm up, face unseen. Fingers curl and then unfurl as if she's communing with the lava, setting the furred humanoid alight, "I could teach you /so many things/, but you're on the //wrong// ~side~." Singsongy and sweet, the words are delivered throatily to carry.
Oran neatly ducks a bolt of sniper fire without missing a beat and calls out conversationally, "Mind the sniper," in a tone like he might have used for inviting the Vanguard to lunch. Given the immediacy of the Kiffar problem, however, it's not a long conversation, nor does he try to retaliate against the unknown, unseen source of the rifle fire. He only has eyes for Syrus Volo, who surprises a laugh out of him, despite everything. "Come crash on your shore?" he echoes, as their blades clash, rip apart, and hit again. "Is that an open invitation? Should I bring wine?"
The next swing of the sabers isn't met with a clash this time, as Oran ducks, cuts, and sends Syrus's impressive right arm flying off over the edge of the skiff and into the lava, where it disappears with the brief scent of tasty, forbidden bbq. As the man starts to fall the red blade lashes again, quick, surgical, and takes an eye. Oran pauses to make sure Syrus isn't getting up again, then steps over the noble Kiffar's body and says, "So, you know, call me." vwom-VOMM, another brief swing of the saber as though to limber up, and he's on the hunt for a new target.
Zandra grins as Yuun comes along with her, actually getting there first. She follows him with a quieter perhaps less athletic motion, the skiff easily boarded. It's a trap, she's sure of it, but Angouri is there and Zandra is determinedly headed for the Amaran. A quick glance around, and she heads towards the prisoner, letting Yuun take the guard position. "Angouri, hold tight," she says before her lightsaber comes around to release the restraints. They may not be useable ever again, at least not these ones. She promptly uses her jedi robes to smother the fire, working that out before anything, while saying, "We need to get out of here fast. Faster if possible. C'mon, let's go. That means you too, big guy!" That to Yuun, but she's not using his name - or anyone's.
Angouri nearly leaps out of her skin when Yuun slams to the floor near her. "Hellswhiskers!" She swears, turning wide, panic-filled amber eyes on the Jedi, and they grow wider at the scene behind him. Red clashes against blue as the Knights of Ren and the Jedi lightsabers crash and crackle together, blaster bolts flying frenzies across their dangerous field of battle - her breath quickens. "Issa trap, it's gotta be a trap. Ain't no way - I /told/ 'em you lot wouldn't come, I told 'em over an' over but there's no way this ain't a trap. We gotta /go/!" She urges, turning now to Zandra as the other Jedi joins them and cuts her binders - and then the world is nothing but fire and pain. Red hot, searing, pain that digs daggers of pure ice to her very core.
It doesn't matter what side she is on: Angouri Dros is on fire. She screams and tries to beat at herself as her clothes and fur catch fire; and after a desperate moment's struggle, Angouri slumps to the floor of the skiff, unmoving.
Yuun knows his lightsaber will not block fire, still though as Erisi attacks Angouri. "I will be right behind you. You two go!" he calls as he spins his lightsaber in towards Erisi, he didn't know the woman but that didn't matter she was attacking one of his allies, and that wasn't going to stand. Using the force to keep a mind to monitor Zan and Angouri. He swings his blade in rapidly towards Erisi attempting to take away that offending hand and take her down if he could.
Lofty is a big target. After his barrage he is struck by a hail of blaster fire, taking sizzling shots to the arm and two to his torso. They impact on his plate carrier and some seriously penetrate into his thick layer of blubber. The massive white alien roars in rage and fires indiscriminately into the troopers. His bowcaster sends out magnetically-accelerated bolts with an ominous FWOOM-FWOOM-FWOOM sound, exploding, sending First Order troops flying. He keys into his comlink, warbling over the din of blaster fire to Greeson, "Snowball need cover fire!" It's a codename. The stench of burnt fur fills the air with its offensive or tantalizing scent, depending on your preference for Talz blubber.
Greeson Rais racked the charging lever, flooding the firing chamber of the Merr-Sonn SX-451 with liquid murder. Then, and only then, did he finally get some confirmation on his next target. Finally. "Copy, find cover," he buzzed back to young PVT Black. Flamer trooper, flamer trooper, there's the lady doing the whole mind-flames thing, Gree didn't think it was her... oh there he was. That wasn't hard, all he had to do is disregard the fashion statements all the Knights of Ren were wearing and look for the flaming one that wasn't fly like last year's Welona catalogue. Speaking of, that catalogue was no longer in vogue, and they might want to talk to their designers. "Target acquired," he confirmed, zeroing in on the guy in armor so heavy he could be the Coral Vanda's anchor, the one that looked like he'd been wounded.
Controlling his heartbeat this time was not an easy task. Adrenaline had hit his system and he knew that attempting to suppress it would be folly. So he didn't, instead focusing on his breathing, holding that long breath, exhaling it, and sending another compacted bundle of get-out-of-the-way downrange. The high-powered bolt winged harmlessly off the heavy armor before the distant boom of the report reached the brawl. "Ohh..." come on swear word, "...bastard! Repositioning." If that hadn't gotten their attention yet, they were fools, and Gree wasn't going to stake his life on that. The bipod was snapped closed, Gree pulled up into a crouch, grabbed the fully assembled heavy thing, and /moved/. Distance was the only cover he had.
'Primary torso pistons compromised'
"I know.." Stomping one foot down to bring himself forward into balance again and engaging his back jets to add to forward momentum, Hadrix glares through his HUD and the storm of system reports murmured by a sultry female voice with a clipped Coruscant accent.
'Primary torso plating, damaged.'
"I know!' Why is it always a voice like that? Hadrix drops to the ground and focuses on the position the fire came from, watching the Talz be gunned down. <<"I owe you dinner and sugar cake, Eighteen">>
'Primary dampener mesh damaged' It get's attention... thats why...
"I know!" Hadrix snarls through bared teeth as a pistol shot splashes against his shoulder armor, leaving a score mark there 'Cosmetic damage - ignore.' An alert comes in, informing him a medic is en route - and then another pistol bolt cuts into the damaged armor on his chest, moving him off balance again, for the moment. The burns at his chest making him spasm and sparks shooting through the transparasteel bubble of the interal armor dome and HUD display coating his face in stars, forcing his organic eyes shut a moment.
'Central armor plating damaged' and then a blaster bolt from on far slams into the armored sensor-helm, rocking it back but only matting the normally glossy black, 'Minor hit, no damage.'
"I! KNOW!" snarling "I. KRIFFING. KNOW" and then system alerts point him towards a rendevou point, driving Hadrix towards cover, obstructing his aim even as he continues to pour molten flame with across the battlefield, a slashing tentacle of it towards the man. "I SAID SAVE YOUR BREATH TO BURN!" externals switching on, at a level meant to be heard over battlefields or a riot.
Saanvi shows no concern, trusting her peers to do their jobs as that ugly bumpy vest over her armor now reveals it's usefulness as her weapon is shoved in it's holster. This done her hands begin to yank open pockets, tug open zippers, and flick open clasps in a precise and rapid series of movements as she kneels beside the fallen Hadrix. The ease and certainty suggests tactical precision and compulsive practice with the same steady hand one might disassemble or reassemble a weapon blind folded-except instead of a weapon those long gloves fingers pull out field medical gear, each thing PRECISELY in it's place.
Even as battle rages around them she doesn't bother to try to drag her patient to cover but tears open sterile packaging with her teeth and with a light activated on her shoulder with her chin takes a quick glance at the wound, Where necessary she pries, cuts, or releases damaged armor that's in her way and with an impressive speed and singular focus tends to Hadrix's wound controlling the bleeding before debris left where it is-she simply begins to patch the armor with tape and a round 'plug' of durasteel. Not pretty but it holds pressure and is better protection than nothing. <<Medic requesting casualty report. Casualties: report.>> Unless they're dead in which case there's no need for a medic!
With all of the lightsabers as well as blasters along the field, it would look like Merek is not able to get great cover, then the flames from a flame rifle begin to melt some of his armor, burning his skin. It's enough that it is a bother, so he moves to take his cover with the speeders while he begins to adjust his attire and pours his canteen on it.
Hadrix is getting railed with shots - even if they don't hit and Karys steps forward to help offer cover fire as Saanvi predictably moves forward to staunch the wounds and get the lead up and running once more. Pistols have ripped through the body of the Talz and as she moves, the bowcaster shot goes wide and her gaze narrows behind that red illuminated black visor. Death. That is what that head turns means and she focuses fire on the next that took shots at her fellow Vanguard.
Merek is focused on and as he runs for cover she growls beneath her breath. NOPE! Those bolts sear and rip out of her pistol barrels to follow him, smacking heavily into the speeder and paying it some heavy damage.
Hadrix is getting railed with shots - even if they don't hit and Karys steps forward to help offer cover fire as Saanvi predictably moves forward to staunch the wounds and get the lead up and running once more. Pistols have ripped through the body of the Talz and as she moves, the bowcaster shot goes wide and her gaze narrows behind that red illuminated black visor. Death. That is what that head turns means and she focuses fire on the next that took shots at her fellow Vanguard.
Merek is focused on and as he runs for cover she growls beneath her breath. NOPE! Those bolts sear and rip out of her pistol barrels to follow him, smacking heavily into the speeder and paying it some heavy damage.
The blue blade darts out and scores a line of hot red across Kylo's sleeve, and the man stumbles back away from her, lead by the arm that jerks reflexively backward in response to the contact, his hair a jumbled mess. Pale skin drips with sweat, feeling the heat of the scene and the conflict ongoing. He spends a moment in reflection, patting at the graze, as if to assure himself the arm is still attached before dark eyes turn her way again, deep breaths heaving in and out. "That person is gone. Your friends will be gone. The Resistance will be gone. But you can still join me," the earnest tone of a stubborn, willful spirit. "Don't make me destroy you too."
To drive the point home, he comes on again, the weapon in his hand a live arc of red menace that whips around towards the girl with a ferocity that is barely contained, as if winning the fight will prove his rightness.
Compassion for one's enemy is a weakness. This has long been known to be true. It makes it harder to strike the killing blow when it must be done. It allows thoughts of kindness to plant their seed and blossom into pacifism. Noble in theory, but dangerous in practice.
And so it is here on a barge beneath the baking sun that Syrus's bloom is snuffed out. Ground into the dirt beneath the heel of disgust and hatred. For now.
Syrus's head rocks back, a plume of smoke erupting from his eye socket as the squishy organ erupts and boils within his skull. It's the precursor to the rest of him form, as the mighty Kiffar stumbles and falls upon his back, his only remaining hand clutched around an extinguished verdant blade.
Deep, heaving breaths are taken as if his lungs are straining to find any amount of respite under the strain of the injuries he's just suffered. The hilt of his saber is clumsily latched onto his belt and his hand begins to pat around for any and every hold it can find until he finally manages to drag himself to the side of the skiff, and with one final and exemplary burst of his remaining strength, he manages to pull himself free to tumble down onto the sands below where he lands with a heavy, meaty thump.
Kylo's advance toward her is met with a deflect of his first swipe, but the second comes around and scores a strike across her arm. A sizzle of burned skin follows with Rey crying out in pain as she ducks beneath the follow-up and spins around for a moment to call out across the comms. "Fall back to the ship!" She shouts to her comrades in arms in this fight.
Above, the Millennium Falcon returns and moves to settle to the ground behind the Resistance speeders that delivered this to this field. The boarding ramp starts to lower while the turrets on the Falcon start to blast random places on the sand to send up waves of smoke and debris to clutter the battlefield with distraction and more cover.
Rey turns back then to Kylo, with her left arm injured now, the sleeve that was wrapped around it up to her shoulder severed and waving free and loose from her wrist. She raises her blue saber up and slashes at him with just the one hand now. She doesn't respond to his words, not this time, her focus is to keep him busy while her friends get back to the Falcon.
Elrych watches as Angouri is burned alive, the fire reflecting in the dark lenses of his perscription solar shades. Sweat clistens on the forehead skin that is visible outside of his wind scarf which covers the low part of his face, nose down to neck, to meet with his dark green robes. His blade humms beside him in midguard, "We need to move..." Then the Kiffar, Syrus is taken by the Coruscant Noble playboy. The vision plays out before him like a haunted spirit that begs to never let him go. He takes a deep breath and then, reaches out with the Force. Seeing Yuun move in on the woman before him, he picks up a bolder and chucks it towards her. It hits, but it's likely nothing more than a distraction for the wicked Knight of Ren.
Erisi does not possess the fancy blade of raw energy that the other Knights do or the Jedi. She is a noodle. Bendable and wobbly, like a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube woman. Yuuns no doubt deft attack is defended against by pure stupid luck. As his blue saber swings she drops, bounces back on her heels, dips this way, slidddeees along that way, and crawls backwards in the most undignified manner one could be capable of, and suffers no injury to her pride for doing so.
Or, well, probably a little bit of suffering, but suffering is power. Her hood in the hubba-balloo falls back revealing a brown skinned, freckled, hazel-eyed sweaty chick with bangs which are plastered to her forehead. ELRYCH BONK. She gets hit with someone, but her focus doesn't shift, "Oooooh, that ..that tickled, I think someone has a crush on me .."
Eyeliner darkly rims her eyes, mixed with sweat and mascara, a wide smile plastered on her reddish brown lips, veins in her face lightly lit in soft amber as she rouses up the force in herself as she sits back on her heels. Attention is all for Yuun though as he tried to CUT her like some ordinary b. Both hands rise up as her shoulders rise up towards her air as if she's in ectasy, bottom lip drawn in as she half-closes hazel eyes and rakes her fingers through the air from head to toe of the man, setting the Jedi on fire, "I like your shoes." Sizzle. She ain't done! Her gaze sweeps off to look at who remains, lip released as teeth are flashed, "Where are you all going?! We just started to get to know one another!"
Oran doesn't spare so much as a backward glance for the fate of poor Syrus Volo, a man who is /good/ and pure in every way that Oran is objectively not. The next flash to grab his attention is the swing of Yuun's saber as it makes slashes at Erisi! He'd just about reached that party when Yuun abruptly lights on FIRE, and Oran reels back in a hurry! "Oh, bloody /hell/," he remarks reflexively, then steps over the edge of the skiff to toss Erisi a grin. "You're perfect, don't ever change," he praises her, before jumping down and joining the fray by clashing blades against Elrych, red to blue! Clash, clash, an evil hum of terrible, ancient weapons! "Don't you think you should go give Syrus a hand?" Oran 'greets,' followed by. "Oh, sorry - too soon?"
Fire out, And Angouri as well, Zan starts towards the edge of the skiff. She's keeping an eye on things, as well as she can, catching sight of Syrus - Stars, Syrus! Her heart is in her throat, and she stuttersteps for a moment, but then digs in, concentrating as hard as she can to get Angouri off the skiff. There's a call to fall back, and Zan cannot help everyone. She drags Angouri to the edge and drops both of them to the sand, landing near Syrus. She promptly calls on her comm. <<Man down here - Syrus. Really down.>> She pauses for only a moment, but she really doesn't know if Syrus is dead or alive, but she does know that Angouri is still alive, and so, lightsaber is settled at her waist (off, so she keeps her legs) and she gathers Angouri, preparing to run.
Yuun holds his lightsaber in a guard position, he sees that Zan has Angouri and that is what he wanted, now focusing on the fight in front of him. "You would be cute if you weren't with that guy...." ok maybe that wasn't the nicest thing too say because when he sees her trying to cook him with fire, Yuun tries to quickly dodge, and turning and using his robes to help him take the brunt of the attack, but damn that's hot! "Damn it..." he is pushed against the side of the skiff and he drops to the ground and is burned pretty badly but he isn't dead.
Lofty is out of endurance after having taken three blaster bolts. The Talz is helped and dragged by two other commandos to the Millenium Falcon's waiting ramp. A bit of blood trickles out of his snoot as he is jostled.
Greeson Rais wasn't running for long. He skidded to a stop and fell prone, but he had a problem. He was in the middle of the desert and the retreat had been sounded and he was a... what, fifteen minute sprint away from the way out? Well bother to that, sir! "Overwatch requesting a pickup," he commed, and popped open the rifle's bipod to traverse the fight again. He had time enough for one last shot.
PVT Black's predicament behind the speeder came to Greeson's attention first, not simply because he was one of many on fire. So much fire! What Gree wouldn't do for some water after this and he was well out of the frypan! "Last one of the day, let's make it a good one," he said, aiming for Two-Gun-Salute over there that was emptying blasters into PVT Black's cover, locking her center mass in his reticle (maybe he should stop going for headshots), and exhaled. And mid-exhalation, he fired.
Light and sound erupted once more and he had enough time to confirm he'd gone HILARIOUSLY WIDE before he started snapping his rifle into its component pieces. It wasn't a good one. Bag, bag, where was the bag... oh, clipped to his belt, right. Into the bag the cannon bits went, weighing him down physically to go with the mental weight of his failure, and he unslung his service rifle from where it had been laying across his back this entire time, just in case, since he was, what, seven hundred metres out? He'd failed today, and he wasn't happy. "Touch and go, drop a rope, I'll make my way up," was his next comm and he didn't even bother hiding the absolute frustration in his voice. His job was HVTs and a lot of people were casualties because he missed. He'd be feeling that. He'd be feeling it hard.
'Panel opened, system IFF reports friendly tag'
"Kriffing SPACE. I KNOW!" Hadrix keeps as still as he can with Saanvi patching him up, keeping himself positioned to be her cover should she need while she patches him up. "STOP TELLING ME WHAT I KNOW!"
'Would you like to disable audio alerts?' the voice almost sounds petulant.
"YES!" he waits a moment as if expecting more digital shenanigans, but the computer system only replies a simple,
'Silencing Audio Notifications.'
"Kark you..." and then he's on comms <<"Thanks Eighty Five.">> the eruption caused by Erisi illuminating Hadrix's face as the live readouts flare and compensate for the flames, turning his into a devil's grin as he is cast in stark relieve <<"Erisi I owe you caf... and pastries.">> Feed people. Everyone loves food. At least the ladies of the First Order... the men are typically loving booze
As Saanvi works at him his armor, Hadrix simply archs fire over his cover, not bothering to watch now, as her work lock up his joints.
<<"Karys, terminate.">>
Saanvi looks up, takes stock, then looks down at Hadrix <<Oh Four stand by for treatment of moderate secondary wound>> apparently deciding the big lug can't be trusted not to roll around in dirt or otherwise irritate or infect the wound and so she executes the same step of procesures. Shuck armor, rinse, sneak a quick peak, then begins rapid-draw medical supplies from various pouches and pockes, even going so far as to carefully make sure the closing of the wound is symmetrical and strait with all the focus of someone aware this will surely make up 50 percent of her grade on this mission <<OH four, you do realize the majority of my medical kit IS combustable, yes? I should reccomend psychiatric eval for your pyromania before I find myself applying skin grafts to myself.>>
Merek listens while the blasters begin to strike the cover of his position, then he takes a moment to think about it. He looks from the speeder, while his gaze is shifted to the Falcon. He then begins to holster his weapon while he nods. With a shift he begins to lift up from the position, then he takes off with the cybernetics within moving him forward.
He's to Yuun, then he spins with an arm to pick up the Jedi with him, the other taking his lightsaber, moving then for the ship. This is what it's to, him and Karys, while he makes a way. <<Incoming, cover me!>>
The click of her boots on the skiff are unheard as the gunslinger of the Vanguard lifts her pistols as the group begins to flee. She steadies slowly and waits. The speeder does nothing now for her - its just a blazing target that will eventually self detonate. Its the meat behind the shield she wants.
He clears his cover and her first shot hits the ground behind him, not compensating enough. Her next is worse ands he sucks in a breath as she does not realize he's being heroic! Her shot goes wide as he grabs Yuun and she mutters beneath her breath as the final one hits the landing strut of the Falcon but too far away to do anything to the fleeing figure of Merek Black and his Jedi prize.
Kylo's onslaught falters when the hit lands on Rey, his feet carrying him a few steps away as his body follows the momentum of the swing. There's tension in his eyes and his lips purse together as he turns toward her again, the saber held out at eye level in a defensive posture, not pushing his advantage.
She comes at him again, and each one-handed swing is fended off with relative ease, batting them away without missing a beat and taking backward steps to open up more space between them, and for a moment it seems as though his heart is not in the fight any longer.
And then Falcon appears, sending up clouds of dust and globs of hot magma as its guns pelt the sand and lava alike, and with a twist of his expression into distaste, a gloved hand lashes out to push the girl away from him, calling on his connection to the Force to overpower her.
For the first time, the skiff begins to move, jolting under the feet of the First Order troops on board as it angles to a more advantageous stance against the encroaching Falcon, its own landing ramp descending. Kylo's eyes glance that way, then back to Rey.
The telekinetic blast from Kylo sends Rey hurtling through the air! The young woman reacts to it by tucking herself up into a tight form and following through with the momentum... in a graceful display of agility (as well as Force manipulation) she comes through the telekinetic unscathed, a backflip ending with her landing on booted feet...
She raises up then, stares at the battlefield as the Falcon pelts it with quad laser fire. Her lightsaber deactivates, drawing the blue blade back into the silver and black hilt. Her hand then pulls her goggles up onto her forehead as she glares across the space between them, to Kylo.
From inside of the Falcon. Chewbacca enters the fray, bowcaster out he fires off a shot toward the Skiff above the lava, his mighty weapon slamming hard into the Skiff's hull sending shards of shrapnel in all directions! The Wookiee roars to Rey as she points him to Syrus and he moves to gather the Kiffar up...
As the others move to the Falcon, so does she, clipping her saber back onto her belt, the fabric of her tattered sleeve slapping at her side as her left arm is kept close to her body, badly singed by Kylo's twisted saber's blade. Rey starts for the boarding ramp of the Falcon now. "Lets go!" She calls out to the others who may not yet be aboard.
"Boy, if I cared about being cute to a bantha-cheese toasty I'd be on your side, wouldn't I." Called out after the fleeing man as Erisi rises up to stand triumphantly, pushing a palm in against sweaty bangs, pumped up by Orans' praise of her, the smile on her face practically delirious. Praise. Fire. Darkness. It all swells within her chest, infusing her with all sorts of good feelings. Further into the dark side she goes, loving every minute of the continued fall. Hadrix's comms buzz in her ear and she lets her head fall back, "Make it a spiran caf and you're on, and a bantha burger! Extra cheese." Erisi ain't no lady. Then to herself in a murmur, "Damn straight I'mma get a pastry ..TWO. Two pastries. For the walking coat /and/ the cringey man-boy." So says the woman now talking to herself atop the skiff, hands slapping down to her hips as drizzles of sweat bead and run down her flesh, gaze oft towards the Falcon as it comes in to rescue those she flamed. She's a Queen.
Until the skiff begins to move, and Eri is knocked onto one knee, right palm hitting the plating, an unsavory 'unk' drifting from her lips.
A Queen.
"No..." Elrych starts as he isn't surprised to see Oran coming. His blue blade clashes with his red one, causing it to spark and smoke. reflected in the black lenses of his shades. His defense was strong. "Your holo-drama cliche bad guy talk already killed me inside. I'm one with the force now." He is entirely deadpan as he says this, moving to back away back towards the falcon as the clash went on. He looked towards Yuun against the Skiff. There was no way he could get to him. Perhaps in another time, Elrych and Oran could have been pals were they not cursed with these powers. Making horrible jokes at the expense of others and each other. Not in this life, though. Perhaps he's given enough Yuun enough time to wake up and make a run for it. But Merek comes to the rescue as so to Jedi disengages his blade and hops aboard the falcon, his shaded eyes gleaming upon the battle field as they leave.
Later, as the Falcon swung past with a rope dangling from the exit hatch, Greeson took it and held on as he was hoisted into the air. Tangling his leg in it for security he clambered up the rope like a monkey-lizard and into the open hatch, closing it behind him. He was out.
Oran laughs. "Holo-drama cliche talk from a brawny hero looking cool in a pair of pointless shades? Well I imagine we're two of a kind then, aren't we?" Elrych slips away and gets the jump before another strike can be made; Oran lets him go as the others escape off into the Falcon rather than continue the pursuit. "While you're dead and one in the Force - give my regards to Volo... and the toasty boy.... and Puppy, won't you?" He extinguishes the saber and promises, "I'm not hard to find, boy, we can finish this over drinks!"
Zandra has Angouri and she sees Yuun, and she's torn. It's a hesitation, but then there's a flash of Merek, coming into her vision and out. The speed and rescue brings a wave of relief. She feels fresh inspiration, starting to move her own feet. "Hang in there, Angouri, we've got you," she mutters, as she cradles the Amaran. It's not easy footing, but she's buoyed by emotion and stubbornness, and she takes off, trying to use what cover is there, protecting Angouri with her own body as she races to the Falcon, panting as she drops to her knees aboard the Falcon. Still she very gently sets Angouri down, before she collapses beside her. "Fine, I'll cut back on the desserts," she mutters, "And work on running more." Because she is out of breath, but aboard.
The world shifts and pulses in a painful, confusing bumble as Angouri Dros is dragged aboard... A ship? Whose ship? She doesn't have the cognitive functions necessary to process it fully. All she knows is pain, burning and inescapable... But something else is there, too. Something that is stronger than it was before - or at least she knows where it is, now. Her unexpected freedom came at a cost to her and her companions, and even in her pained, faltering consciousness, the amaran knows that nothing will be the same - for better or for worse.
<<"For that performance, Erisi... I'll throw in a full week spa on Thyferra.">> there's a siblings sort of affection in Hadrix's voice. Standing and looking to the troopers <<"Vanguard, exfil - inform if you need pickup." moving on the skiff towards Erisi as she loses her balance, commenting on his externals - volume lower for her.
"I saw nothing m'lady, I came only to shake your hand in congratulations." one massive armored paw moving to where she could grip and use it to stand without him seeing. Heck it even looks his suit arm is offline.
<<"Good job, Vanguard. Top marks.">>
Saanvi offers Hadrix a hand up and looks around <<Are there no other wounded? It looks like oh four took all the fire just for us!>> She closes clasps, cinches loops, and zips zippers back up.
When Merek is within the Falcon, he then brings Yuun to a place to settle him back, then he places the lightsaber next to him safely. "Yuun, brother, you alright?" he asks with that husky voice of his. The male leans back next to him a moment also, and takes a few bacta patches which he places on him, then he's beginning to assist him, "We got all of the people?" he asks to any about.
The slow lowering of her pistols as the last few of them manage to slip away, Karys speaks. <"Target remains alive."> Not the best thing to have to say over the internal comms of the Vanguard, she steps back and feels the skiff shift beneath her. For a moment she sways in place before her stance angles apart to take the rocking before the vehicle smooths out. Her boots shift, moving her about as she glances up at the Falcon with another long scowl. <"Rather disappointed that Dameron was not with them."> Pausing at Saanvi's question.
<"No eighty-five, no other wounded."> Just Hadrix.
