Log:Knights of Ren: Encounters at the End of the World (I)

The Knights of Ren travel to a remote location to snuff out an outpost of smugglers.

OOC Date: November 9, 2020
Location: Hoth
Participants: Andro Tain, Bazine Netal, Erisi Auslese, Errod Zand, Imani, Malik Ren as Self/GM, Oozlevort, Sebek, Syrus, Tamsin Cas, Tarq Najjic, Knights of Ren

[Malik Ren]

... .. .

Dismantling the Wookiee terrorist cell on Kashyyyk yielded an important clue: The Wookiees were not acting alone, and they were supplied with weapons, information, and provisions by a smuggling ring calling itself Nightfall.

Investigation into the information from Kashyyyk has revealed that Nightfall is actively engaged in smuggling similar aid to other First Order worlds, fueling resistance movements, protests, riots, and surreptitious political maneuvering on planets otherwise under Order control. They have been successful moving weapons, information, and terrorists past First Order control of its systems, and they were clearly careful with even the data that came into the hands of their Wookiee friends.

But not careful enough, and the location of their headquarters has been revealed: Hoth.

Inconveniently remote, to be certain, but that frozen marble in the middle of nowhere isn't without its benefits -- a challenging asteroid field to navigate, slowly being forgotten by history which now concerns itself with the many battles of a new war, and assumed abandoned by those who remember it at all.

The Night Buzzard arrives in-system to a view screen in which Hoth looms like a pale, unwelcoming marble. Syrus is piloting, accompanied by a gunner from Spearhead, the esteemed Lieutenant Kepp. The Knights of Ren have a simple mission: Find the smuggling headquarters, kill everyone there, and go home.

Should be simple.

[Erisi]

"Well, this will /not/ be simple." Stated with a smile, hands tucked away into her robe pockets as she views that freezing world on the viewscreen, "Look at it. Wondrously dead, but with enough aching to be alive that it draws all sorts of living to it." That would include their current number, "I love it, like a giant corpse flower, blooming only when blood is claimed upon it." Has she taken a note from Errods song book, "Without the smell of course, could you imagine? An entire planet of rot? Eugh, some things even I don't have the stomach for." Said with a disdainful sort of look which crooks across her features.

"Either way, I'm pretty sure blood will be claimed from our end, every inch closer we get, the more I feel it." Left corner of her mouth dances up as she glances over her shoulder at whomever is closest, "Should be fun." Hands in pockets fluff outwards, sending bottom of her robes dancing, a swaying swing of her hips done in place, "My kind of fun." Last said for the benefit of those who no doubt find her version of fun utterly unfun.

[Syrus]

Seated in the pilot's chair, Syrus maneuvers the old, smoke-belching prison ship through the sprawling asteroid field as best as he can, his eyes fixed more on the viewscreen than any readouts that may be flickering across the myriad consoles surrounding him. The big man's robo hand rests easily on the wheel, listing the rumbling vessel this way and that along its journey. There's a nagging feeling creeping up on him, though. One of those fancy little tricks that the Force likes to pull on its adherents. A glance over his shoulder is spared to see if it's just a fluke...or if the others feel it, too. Erisi's statement is as much of an affirmative as he needs.

"We're getting close," he says, returning his attention to the task at hand.

[Oozlevort]

Oozlevort the Gand Findsman is kneeling in the passenger compartment, communing with the mists. A globular censer of narcotic incense emitting silvery-blue smoke is placed in front of him for meditation. Since they are going to Hoth, he wears a thick Mastmot fur coat over his findsman robes. Slowly the mists reveal to him the path.

[Imani]

Imani is decked out in her armor, and is strapped with her usual assortment of weapons. Variety is nice, even if she has leaned into almost exclusively using her chain whip. It's a nice weapon, and she loves it. Her helmet is off and is currently resting in her lap, fingers thumping out a slightly disjointed beat that luckily doesn't carry much. Just a soft bap-bap of gloved fingers against the protective material of her helmet. She listens to Erisi's poetic recitations about the icy planet they're approaching, and it's with the final thoughts that she nods along happily. "It will be fun. And cold. I hope everyone wore their good socks."

[Tamsin Cas]

"Find a parka, we're going to Hoth." Words that quite likely echoed in many ears, as the Night Buzzard made its way towards her final destination. In the time between their last mission and this one, Tamsin had not been idle. She had indeed found herself a parka. The thickest, warmest, and likely most overpriced she could find on the few planets she had been able to scour. To be fair, perhaps she might have managed something more expensive, but she had also stocked up on self-heating packs, the sort that could be tucked into clothing and down into boots. She had read enough about the planet to know that even a few hours there could be deadly. And Tamsin Cas was not yet ready to face death. And so, she busied herself as the ship travelled, checking and double checking the supplies she had brought. She only looked up once she heard Erisi's statement. Perhaps to her discredit as a knight, she felt no such foreboding. "I have a small store of supplies if any of you need them."

[Andro Tain]

Dead? Lifeless? Hardly! Ice and tundra is home to ecosystems all their own... But Andro will get to that later. For now, she focuses on re-checking her gear. She has modified her Knight's Raiment with an archaeologist's flair: fur-lined jacket, utility belt packed with a pickaxe, an emergency beacon... The works. "I only own good socks." The Mirialan announces, wiggling her toes in her heavy-duty boots.

[Tarq Najjic]

Tarq is standing rather than sitting, holding on to one of the handles on the ceiling as he looks over Syrus's shoulder from some distance away. His cold-weather gear rests on his seat, instead. At Erisi's words, his eyes go distant for a moment, then he starts slipping into his furry boots, his parka, his fluffy hat - all colored to blend, as well as possible, with a world that is nothing but terrible arctic snow. He is moving quickly at the warning that he may literally be caught with his drawers down.

[Errod Zand]

The Night Buzzard began its inglorious career as a prison ship, and vestiges of its former life ushering incarcerated felons from one high-security facility to the next still remain. Errod rests in one of them, perched atop a hatch that caps off one of the ship's eponymous oubliettes in a cross-legged posture, his helmet sitting on his ankles, forearms crossed over the top of the plain metal headgear. He's smoking, a cig tucked in the corner of his mouth under the corner of his horseshoe shaped mustache. His frizzed mane is pulled back into a rough ponytail, concealed under a padded, furry cap, wild eyes squinting shut while he takes a drag and puffs it out into the air.

"Cold rock with only the barest traces of life. Miserable creatures hiding in the shelter of the ice, praying each day not to be caught out in the blast of the frigid air when night falls. Winds that constantly shift the drifting snow from here to there, erasing any trace of what came before." He takes another pull, leaning his head back and blowing the smoke high towards one of the vents in the ceiling and giving his grating voice a moment's pause. "No different than any other place in the galaxy. Only a shorter timeline from here to gone. Only a starker glimpse at the true nature of life and death. Only a preview of things to come." It's unclear if he's talking to anyone in particular, or whether he's in a position to be heard at all.

[Sebek]

"And lo the planet speaks doom and ruination upon us. Glorious." When the Force was screaming about danger and death and doom, Sebek of the Desert, Flagbearer of Coret, Conqueror of the Sixteenth Deck, Consumer of Hounds, Wielder of Tei Tenga, He Who Hunts knew he was in for a good time. He had prepared for warmth for layering robes upon raiment, looking like a particularly angry burnt marshmallow man. Stealth? What's that? "For upon the surface of this blighted world lies quarry, and what better place to hunt than a planet that is trying to kill you?" The melodiously oozy voice of the Falleen was flooded with satisfaction and hunger. "Magnificent."

[Malik Ren]

As the ship draws closer, the sense of foreboding seems to increase. For those who are attuned to the Force, and trained in its interpretation, the sense of danger grows stronger as Hoth looms larger in the Buzzard's view screen. A sense that clenches the stomach and wrings the nerves... no clues, but a feeling just like knowing the floor's about to drop out from under their feet.

Malik Ren does not seem very happy about this, though with the black and silver mask on, his unease is read not so much in his face as in the stiffness of his posture, in the way he seems to be studying the planet ahead. Like the rest, he's wearing a modified version of the usual attire, outfitted for cold with extra layers and a cloak lined in the fur of an endangered species. "Intelligence has suggested that the most habitable, and possibly only habitable area suitable to house any meaningful operation will be the cavern system once utilized by the Rebel Alliance." That's where they're headed.

"Scans?" he prompts Lieutenant Kepp, who shakes his head, "There's a major storm down there sir, we can't read much, but there are no ships in the air. None that we can pick up, anyway."

The ship breaks atmo, and the feeling of Not Good hits a breaking point just as turbo laser bolts slam into the ship!

The occupants of said ship are tossed violently as the bolts hit home, and the cockpit lights up with all manner of flashing alarms and warnings to suggest there's a whole lot of NOT GOOD NOT GOOD happening with the beloved Night Buzzard. "Fire on that battery!" Malik orders Lieutenant Kepp, bracing himself to keep from falling over as the ship fights Syrus's best efforts to keep it aloft!

[Erisi]

"Ah, see, you get it Imani. I adore the cold ..heat? Ugh, you can only peel off so much, but cold? So many layers, including ones peeled off others, skin not to be poo-poo'd as an option." Erisi says with a point of gloved right handed fingers towards Imani and a much warmer smile, "I stole a few of Syrus's. He has the good itchy k-" No ships in the air her tookus.

One second she's about to extol the virtues of Syrus's socks and the next she's being knocked around, finding herself flung to the side into one thing, it all a blur, then into another thing, soon on the deck plating scrambling to try and hold onto anything to keep herself from being flung further. PEW. Nope, didn't work, there she goes thataway.

[Syrus]

"This planet makes me ill," Syrus says, his grip tightening around the wheel of the ship as the ship enters atmosphere and begins to ride that mean storm. Syrus is trying his best to handle the turbulence when the bolts hit home. A exasperated shout escapes his lips as the Buzzard bucks and jerks under the assault and nearly throws him from his chair. Lucky for him, and the rest of the occupants, the Kiffar's still at the helm.

"Get strapped in back there!" he barks into the belly of the ship. Did they bring an engineer? Do they even employ any engineers?

This blue milk run just went sour.

[Oozlevort]

Oozlevort and his globular censer of narcotic incense emitting silvery-blue smoke are tossed about by turbulence! "AHHHHHH!" Burning embers and smoke and Gand go around the cabin.

[Imani]

Though Imani hasn't the extra invisible force antennae to pick up messages of doom, she has sense enough to listen to those around her that do. The drumming fingers cease to drum and instead clutch the helmet on either side so she can deposit it onto her head. "I'm particular about extreme temperatures in either direction, but if I had to choose one I'd pick cold," she remarks to Erisi, words carried through the vocoder now, but then things get rough and conversation becomes less casual and more 'AAAA'. The warning to get strapped in comes and she does just that, clutching the straps to keep herself seated before clasps are snapped together and she's securely in her seat. For now.

[Malik Ren]

Burning embers and smoke catch a supply pack on fire. It smells like Oozlevort's incense, and burning protein bars and nylon.

[Tamsin Cas]

Tamsin, for what it was worth, still had no sense of anything that might be wrong with the planet below, beyond the usual sort of unease that being a warm-blooded mammalian tended to feel as they were facing approaching a place that was entirely and utterly unfriendly to ones kind. She had the words of others to go by, but that was not the same as the gut-feeling they were all, or mostly all experiencing. And so, she had no forewarning when the ship was hit, and no opportunity to brace herself as the sudden and violent jolt to the ship tumbled her from the knee she had taken. She ad only a split second to act, and rather than doing anything that might have protected herself from graver injury, she used that split second to grab her medical bag, turning just enough that it was the back of her head and the length of her back that slammed into the bulkhead she was catapulted into.

[Andro Tain]

Good socks can't save any of them now! Andro Tain is rocketed towards a wall by the sudden shift of the ship, but she manages to grab ahold of... Bars? Prison bars? Oh, right. Prison barge.

This is why you wear seatbelts, kids.

Andy isn't able to get to a seat with a belt on it, but she does /have/ a belt! All of her gear is primed for climbing and surviving, and within a moment a small length of rope has been wrapped to one of those bars, looped around her waist, and secured with a ham-fisted grip, her feet braced against the bars and the ground. A body goes soaring past her, but she's ducking her head and bracing - Andy can't tell who it was! She's gone into full survival-mode, and at this exact moment, it seems like that means 'incrementally and minutely increasing your chances to survive a probable crash'.

[Tarq Najjic]

Tarq's inability (or unwillingness) to read a room is the stuff of legend, but he's paying close attention to the body language of other members of this landing party that he knows to be attuned to the Force, particularly Glorious Leader's. As the ship begins to shake, he grabs another handle on the ceiling and tucks one foot beneath his chair, gripping tightly but letting himself otherwise hang loosely, letting the impacts ripple through him. In this moment of focus, the thief keeps looking towards the cockpit - and his eyes close and then open in what seems like slow motion as the ship is buffeted. "Lieutenant - Kepp," he enunciates carefully. "Tarq Najjic wants you to explain why you are not aiming - at - a /target/!" He can't see what that target should necessarily be, from back here, but he can see that the Lieutenant is both not stressed about this encounter the way he should be and that he's shooting any old which way he feels like.

[Bazine Netal]

Bazine Netal has been quiet the entire trip. She's not the largest member of the group physically, neither is she seething with Dark Force-foo. Just a petite, slender, woman wearing black Knight's Raiment with a couple of hand weapons. She remains impassive as well, behind the black mask.

The woman does strap in as they hit atmosphere, and reaches for one one of the hand-hold straps when they're hit.

[Errod Zand]

With all the grace of a tipping chair leaned back too far, Errod is tossed abruptly from his perch, and rather than strapping in, per se, he pops the oubliette hatch open and drops inside, latching on and standing on his tip-toes so that his crazy eyes clear the opening, just barely, to stare around at floor-level. "It is a relief to travel with such prescient genetic oddities as yourselves, or else we would have, perhaps, been unprepared for this attack," the Knight suggests in a flat, unimpressed tone of voice.

[Malik Ren]

The source of the fire turns out to be, on the screaming ship alarms and visible through a break in the clouds, an old turbo laser battery from the Civil War days, hammering at the Night Buzzard in exactly the right place, at exactly the right time, almost as though someone knew they were coming, almost as though someone knew to have that old thing powered up and ready to go. The ship's shields flicker, falter, and it's going down.

There is indeed a miserable storm blowing over the surface of Hoth, but when is there not? As the Buzzard starts making a smokier descent than usual, at speed, a freighter zips up from blast doors below, escaping! Followed by another.

"PICK a target, FIRE on the TARGET," Malik is yelling at Lieutenant Kepp, who insists, "Sir, I am making best effort!"

Is he though?

Doesn't seem like he is. Nor is it a very convincing lie.

"Find supplies. Brace for impact," Malik suggests, in a growl that sounds deeply unhappy. "We're going down hard." AWWW YEAH. "Syrus... do your best." That means try not to kill everybody, but if you do, like, we understand.

[Erisi]

After being flung around soundly Erisi is crawling her way towards the cockpit with a very unhappy look upon her face, really intent on giving Syrus a piece of her mind. However, Maliks yelled words redirect her ire entirely, the woman pulling herself up bodily along the frame archway before snapping a hand out to snag the Lieutenant up into the air with a raging growl. "Your BEST is not WORTHY of the Knights of REN." And a snap to send him into the ceiling plates with a horrifying crunch of bone and skin, the man not /dead/, but properly cracked. Releasing him as she breathes heavily she'll stare at Malik a moment, then slide her gaze to Syrus, explaining in a ragged out of breath way, "One less mouth." She's bruised and bloodied from her toss around, but fully realizing they're gonna crash, gaze shifting to Malik once more, "And a meal for Sebek."

[Syrus]

More shots pepper the transport ship. It's a shame that it's been built to work like a drag racer in that it's a hell of a craft in a straight line, but maneuvering leaves a lot to be desired. The shields have failed and a heavy bolt sears straight through the hull, punching a pair of very handsome holes through the bulkheads and sending the Buzzard flopping and flailing in a downward trajectory.

Visibility is clearer as the ship gets lower, but it's still no easy task to fly the crippled bird through across the many snow-capped peaks and craggy canyons of this planet when you're being whipped to and fro by the elements. An attempt to evade incoming fire has Syrus jamming the wheel to one side and sending the Buzzard into a tight spin...altogether much too close to a craggy out-cropping. A cacophony of rending metal howls through the interior of the vessel. That's definitely not good.

"Our starboard engine is gone! Hold on!" shouts Syrus.

[Imani]

There's not much for Imani to do in regards to this whole failure to shoot back/crashing situation, she isn't a pilot, she doesn't know how to fire turrets. That is all well out of her hands. What she can do is stretch out one long leg to try and stamp out bits of burning supplies that are within her reach. STAMP STAMP. She doesn't get all of it, but she is crushing the life out of some smoldering protein bars, the melty mess sticking to the bottom of her boots. She'd be more concerned if they weren't also crashing. "If we don't survive this," she calls out, still stomping on the burning supplies, the effort making the words a little more stilted and broken up than they would normally be otherwise. "I just wan--t you to know th-- at I've loved working wi-- with you all."

[Tamsin Cas]

Tamsin had managed to protect one of her bags. The other she could see just out of her reached, lodged behind a supply crate. She would have to get that out before she did anything else. Well, almost anything else. ignoring the pain in her head and back, she threw the strap of her bag over her head, leaving her hands free to try to push to her knees. She kept one hand the closest bit of webbing she could find, the other digging in her bag for a bag of saline to try to put out the fire that was not so far from her head. Imani was stamping but many hands made light work. As she moved, she put the bag to her mouth, tearing off the top. Not the best solution, but it would do. The smoke was thick and oily, so close to her head that it might have irritated normal human eyes. But Tamsin was not human, and the nictitating membranes that snapped down over her eyes protected her vision, allowing her to get to bits and pieces that were still burning and squirt the liquid on the charring supplies.

[Andro Tain]

They are going down. They are going down because they are being shot at. People don't always stop shooting when the prey goes down.

These thoughts occur one after the other and Andy, realizing the idiocy of it, grunts out a breath and releases her grip on her relative safety in order to scramble for the cockpit. "Move." She grunts, batting away any hands near the comms console, and begins to... Well, it's not clear. But after several bouts of banging, beeping, and flashing lights, a bout of static bursts from their comms. "I'm scrambling this as best as I can - it'll be more difficult to find us once we hit the ground." And she's back to bracing - now, on the back of the pilot's chair. Though, she should take Kepp out of his, for all the good he's doing them

Erisi seems to have the same idea. "Thanks!" Andy shouts, crawling into Kepp's vacated seat and strapping herself in with his seatbelt.

[Oozlevort]

Oozlevort is banged off the bulkheads. His thick carapace provides some protection. He manages to grab on to Imani's leg and helps her slap out some of the burning embers with his three-fingered hand. Then the engine falls off and they are just dropping. "BLAAAAGGGGGGG," he screams, having the presence of mind to activate his emergency deflector shield with a CHIRPCHIRP sound. He still clings to Imani's leg.

[Tarq Najjic]

The slim gymnast of a thief is still hanging onto the ceiling with two hands and his seat with both feet tucked under it, even as the ship bucks, falls, and spins, making ceiling and floor really a question of perspective. Tarq sees the gunner smash into the cockpit, but the man is definitely still breathing. He takes one hand from the ceiling grips and holds it out, fingers splaying outwards, then coming back together and winding in a circle through the air, not unlike tying a knot. In the cockpit, where Andro Tain just took Kepp's seat, the restraints of the vacant copilot seat snake out out and encircle Kepp by the neck, pulling him down into the 'safety' of the new seats. Then the restraints twine up and around his neck, around the back of the seat, and back around to the front before clipping and tightening, his neck squeezed tightly against the seat. He'll be fine - as long as they don't land hard, or hit something. Good thing for Kepp he's not responsible for both of those things! "An honor as well, Imani. Say goodbye to your neck, Lieutenant." The same warm tone says both of those sentences.

[Bazine Netal]

Bazine Netal's thing isn't really flying, and neither is it shooting ship-mounted weapons at, well, anything. Much like Imani. So far she's just holding on and bracing herself. If it wasn't for the woman's tight-gloved grip on one of the crash handles, she might even be sleeping.

The ship is being bounced around, there's fire somewhere inside the compartment, and people are screaming. Then the direct hit spins the ship around violently and she finally speaks up. "I don't recall the part in the mission briefing where we all die when the ship crashes, so why don't we skip that part." In a lower voice, then she adds. "At least we'll have warmth from the fire when we do finally land on this iceball..."

[Errod Zand]

"Which direction is starboard? Surely that can be fixed?" Errod yells from his oubliette, demonstrating his deep knowledge of spacecraft. A cautious hand reaches up and grabs the hatch, pulling it down so that now it rests atop his furry hat, ready to clap it the last few inches shut at any moment. "Send someone out there to get it running again." There's a fire, and explosions, and a lot of noise, and something about the end of the world. Wide eyes follow Oozlevort around the interior of the ship, teeth grinding the butt of his cig to a pulp. "...I want to play Cheg one more time before I die," he murmurs, lowering the hatch and sealing himself in.

[Malik Ren]

Erisi receives no rebuke for her treatment of Lieutenant Kepp. Only a grim remark from Malik, "Hopefully only for Sebek."

How many un-burned protein bars do they have?

Time passes differently in a crisis. All the extra information the brain usually filters out is suddenly taken in, processed in full, and time seems to elongate with the space of those details. The hideous, rending tear of metal that should never be torn signals the loss of their starboard engine, and then it's just a series of small, pointless details before the end -- the strange way restraints twist around Kepp's neck. The smell of burning nylon, and Gand incense. The sticky of protein-melt against a shoe -- one last clip of a crash harness. The breathless hope for the best.

The crash, when it comes, is horrific.

Syrus's skill is sufficient to keep the ship from exploding on impact, but no one can fly a broken ship, and the landing is rough to say the least. Ships were not meant to land that way. Occupants are tossed painfully against their restraints, knocked against the infrastructure within the protection of their helmets, and as smoke billows up, everything goes dark...

...

How long has it been? Only seconds, surely? Harsh, cold wind is sweeping snow into a hatch that's been knocked open, and the ship is freezing! Fires flicker but can't get a purchase in the cold, and smoke pours from the Night Buzzard... but it kinda does that anyway, so who knows. Everyone is battered and bruised. Kepp is thoroughly dead. The noxious ship seems like a bad place to stay, but outside, options can be seen -- old blast doors, leading to what might be a cavern base once housing rebels. Or perhaps the wreckage of AT-AT's, a little further out? It's a hike either way.

[Erisi]

Sweet, sweet cold. Awareness comes first with a flutter of frozen eyelashes, an uncomfortable numbness encroaching along exposed flesh, tingling pinpricks taking over the initial numbness as Erisi lifts her head up from what was a ceiling plate. Both hands are planted down, twinkling flakes of snow swirling in around from the hatch, Erisi blearily trying to clear her eyes, or at least open them up fully with a soft groan -- she doesn't even know what side of the ship she's in anymore, but she wasn't one of the smart ones to buckle in, far too rage-happy in taking out her anger on the Kepp. A deep breath, woman still too stunned to do much of anything. Give her a moment to come to her senses.

[Syrus]

It's so...so cold. Where is Syrus? Why is it so cold all of a sudden? Weren't they just on fire?

The Kiffar can be found some twenty some-odd yards away from the nose of the Night Buzzard prostrate in the snow, his cheek resting on his hand...probably a sign that he's still alive enough to get his face out of the crunchy, awful substance.

Normally, transparisteel is much too dense for folks to jettison through. Unluckily, or luckily, for Syrus, the structural integrity of the viewscreen had been compromised by the crash-landing and only served to snag Syrus' arm along the way and send him spinning through the air after the impact.

And so there he lays, his cybernetic arm worse for wear and his robes and fur-collared riftiaworm-hide coat whipping around in the harsh winds.

He's not getting up for a minute.

[Oozlevort]

Oozlevort bounces off the corners of the interior of the ship like a Windows screensaver. His personal blue bubbleshield and carapace help to cushion the blows, and eventually he ends up on the roof which is the floor now. "Ugh." He slowly picks himself up, deactivating his shield, and brushes debris out of his big white coat.

[Tarq Najjic]

There's a moment there when Tarq was a genius. If he held on just so, and moved like so, he could dampen enough of the force of the impact so that- - - but that didn't happen. Instead, by virtue of not being strapped in, he is in the front of the ship, somehow leaning across both Syrus's seat and the copilot's seat. He tries to clamber back towards the hatch, and he trips, hard, smashing his face into the former deck of the Night Buzzard. Bruises are on their way. He reaches down to pick up whatever he tripped over - and finds himself staring into the lifeless smashed eye sockets of Lieutenant Kepp. He leans his head forward, then starts making his way out the hatch with the only supply bag he could see. Anyone watching the ship sees the head get tossed out first like a soccer ball from a goalie, and then a bag containing unburned protein bars and their ilk, and then gloves. Finally, Tarq's bruised face and utterly ruined eyeliner reach the top, befeore he pulls his scarf over his face. He slides down the ship towards the supplies and his trophy.

[Bazine Netal]

Once the ship stops -moving- (and she regains awareness), Bazine Netal pops the straps on her restraints and starts to roll a bruised shoulder. Annnd that's when she realizes that her seat is somehow on its side wedged into what is currently the ceiling. Upside down.

Instinct kicks in, he mercenary/assassin does a flip and lands on her feet. She rolls her other shoulder with a small grunt of discomfort. "Let's not do that again, shall we?" she murmurs. Not that there's much chance the 'Buzzard will manage to get airborne again anytime soon.

"We need to find shelter before the cold takes us." Pause. "Is anyone too injured to move?"

[Imani]

Imani is strapped into her seat which means that she's not thrown around. She's going to feel the way the straps dug into her body later, but first she has to wake up. She's slow to, but eventually her lolling head starts to lift as she looks around, confused. So confused. Confused, and then alarmed, pressing the release on the belts as she tries to get up in a panic, and then immediately falls forward, body not the least bit ready to do that whole support your own weight thing. A groan follows the clumsy display, and this time she's slower to rise, starting with trying to sit up first. "Are we all still alive?"

[Tamsin Cas]

Tamsin came back to herself with, for the moment, no real sense of where she was or where she was supposed to be. She felt only pain. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She had ended up wedged, quite decisively, between two crates, and there was a moment, a long one, when she wasn't entirely sure if she was unable to move because the crates were holding her in place, or because she had lost the ability to move. And so, she remained where she was, still as stone, her body slowly becoming less or more than dead weight, eyes shifting into that spectrum that allowed her to see in the dimmest of light, trying to get her bearings before she regained enough feeling to try to wriggle her way to freedom. The crates, however, would not budge, and there in the dark, a rare, true emotion blanched her skin from gold to silver, as she slammed a palm against one of the crates, the scream of metal on metal loud even in the aftermath of crunching snow, fierce storm, and still popping and groaning steel. But the crate moved, as if the air between her palm and the metal had suddenly expanded and she was free to crawl out and to her knees. "I am mostly alive."

[Andro Tain]

Death tastes like copper and honey, and then nothing at all... For a time. It tastes different after that, because it's /taste/ that returns first to Andro Tain: copper, once more, but something acidic, too. Bile? Oh, she's puked on herself. Lovely. But she /realizes/ that she's puked on herself, has the /thought/ that she's puked on herself - it means she's alive.

"Hrrrgarunnng." Those are words; it's a full sentence, a question, a scream... But it only comes out as "hrrrgarunnng", and Andy is fine with that, for now. Her return to full capabilities is a slow one; fingers that feel as if they have spent a lifetime attached to someone else, fumble at restraints. A body that was once her own flumps to the ground from where it hung, upside down. Another gag comes from somewhere deep and distant - is she throwing up again? It isn't clear.

"Are we there yet?" Andy finally sputters out when cohesion returns to her thoughts, and before she's totally with it once more, crawling and yet still braced against the wall. Somewhere, those instincts kick in - survival. They need to survive. Taking bleary stock of their surroundings, Andy grabs at any bits of rubble and netting that seem useful before pointing towards the caverns. "There." She grunts. "Let's."

Is it too late to turn down this job offer?

[Errod Zand]

There's no such thing as a good crash landing. When the oubliette hatch finally pops open, Errod emerges, PEZ-like, from the tube, his wide eyes blinking owlishly as he peers about the smoking, stinking wreckage for his compatriots. Ice rimes his mustache in crusty whiskers that overlay the hair beneath, and the cold lends the environment a cerulean tint to all the white. "How long was I out for?" he rasps, sliding out of the confined area and collapsing in a heap for a moment to groan his discontent. Remarkably, he seems fine, if a bit shaken, not stirred, and served over the rocks.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, he continues looking around, pulling his mittens back to reveal numb fingers beneath that pat around his body for weapons and injuries, seeing which he does and doesn't have. "I opened my eyes in some new level of hell, so I must be alive," Errod affirms, shoving an arm back into the tube and pulling out his furry hat to tug it down over his ears. "We should move. Those are doors; doors have something behind them. Seldom seen any doors that don't."

[Malik Ren]

Things the Knights should probably scavenge up later:

- A sheet of transparisteel. - The Night Buzzard's starboard engine. - Someone who knows how to fix things.

But those are all problems for Later.

Malik, like Erisi, seems to have been somewhat freely thrown about -- saved by powers of reducing injury more than smarts of what to do in a crash situation. Top notch, exemplary leadership team here. The hem of his cloak is burning just a little tiny bit from a nearby electrical fire, and he stomp! stomp!s a moment to put it out before looking around in a daze.

"Take whatever you can carry," Malik finally finds voice to instruct, voice a little rough even through the vocoder of his helmet. "Bazine is right, we have to find shelter or we'll freeze out here before nightfall." Nightfall. Damn them. More like KNIGHT fall amirite

Errod seems to be voting for the doors, and Malik Ren appears disinclined to argue. Doors it is. That's at least some sort of structure, right? A structure is a shelter! "To the caverns," the decision is made, and he trudges forward into the snow, shouldering a pack as he goes.

A stop is made by Syrus, along the way. Several pathetic attempts to heft the larger man back up to his feet involve Malik flailing around in the snow, left handed and ineffective, until he finally gives up and uses telekinesis to assist.

[Erisi]

Erisi crawls her way out of the ship, exhaling out a long misty roll of cold air, forcing herself up once again, though rage has been dampened by the extremely cold air. Unsteadily she'll begin walking towards those doors that Errod indicated, both her and Bazine having their brains in one piece, thankfully, which will no doubt save them. Staggering silently towards the doors she'll pause and finagle with the panel, the sound of mechanisms moving as she digs with her fingernails in things -- but the doors do not slide open, "I think ..I think I ..loosed the lock open ..someone just needs to ...pull it open, I think." Said with a pained, exhausted nod, Eri turning around to sink down in front of the panel down to the ground, robes pulled around her, no effort on her part to do any further for the time being.

[Syrus]

Nudged into action by the unseen hand of the Force (as always), Syrus blinks rapidly and allows himself to be helped to his feet. His helmet is nowhere to be found and is likely tucked somewhere under the captain's chair of the Buzzard. That can be fetched later, and the snow is giving him a sort of salt-and-pepper thing that's honestly doing wonders for the man. His mismatched eyes flicker around in the blizzard as he feels his way around the area. "We're not alone here. Nothing sentient, I don't think. But something big," he informs the Ren (who probably already knew). Once he's collected himself and shaken off the...well, shakes, he's moving to join the rest of the group at the door, giving Erisi a look of appraisal to make sure she hasn't lost anything important.

[Imani]

They need to move. Imani is hurting, but when that realization hits she gets back to her feet, this time managing to stay on them. They need supplies, and she's quick to start gathering unstomped, unburnt protein bars first. They have plenty of water here, but she's not of a mind to eat the dead guy in the cockpit, so bars it is. "To the caverns." It's not quite as peppy as it might usually be, but that can be forgiven, she was abused by the laws of gravity today. She doesn't complain on the trudging walk over to the cavern, and when Erisi says the doors are unlocked she doesn't hesitate to try and open them. Gloved fingers claw at the opening, but the limited amount of purchase she gets results in the doors not even pretending like they might open.

[Tamsin Cas]

Once she was free, Tamsin got to work. First, she scoured the wreckage for that second bag. It was not a luxury, but a necessity. And once she had located it, trying to make an escape down into one of the holding cells, she got to work gathering supplies. She was small, but surprisingly strong, and she did not mind looking like a bipedal packmule. Everything that she could somehow attach to herself she did, food, water canteens, other supplies, anything that looked like it might be useful at some point. Moving helped to keep the cold at bay, but it wasn't enough, and Tamsin stopped, just for a moment, leaning on an overturned and torn from its fastenings seat, settling into herself, remembering all of the years she had sat with her tutors, learned how to focus, and she wished herself warmer, as if she could force her body to do what she needed it to do. She focused on needing to move, on needing her muscles to function. And then...somehow, she was warmer. In the biting chill of the planet, though it was no great wave of volcanic heat, it fairly baked off of her, somehow managing not to be blown away by the wind or the oncoming storm. She was a bubble of warm, welcome air. And where she moved, the warmth followed. The sight of Syrus being levitated like a corpse sharpened her focus and her words clipped short, "I need to tend to him as soon as we are inside. To all of you."

[Andro Tain]

To the caverns! Yes, that is the smartest course of action. Andro's thoughts are unfuddling with action, and with the shock of cold, so she is cognisant enough to triage duties in her mind: those with the Force are going to be better suited to tasks such as... Y'know: opening doors, lifting objects and each other, making angsty remarks... Andy is more suited to finding things, so she sets her eyes on the horizon.

She doesn't like what she sees.

"Um... We should get that door open." The archaeologist announces. Squinting through the snow, she can see tauntauns... But they're running. They tend to do that when they're being chased. She nods at Syrus' assertion and points. "Please hurry." Even as she says it, she's sliding into the radius of warmth around Tamsin.

[Tarq Najjic] Tarq Najjic has Kepp's head under his arm, a pack over his shoulder, and a song in his heart. The song is in a minor key, though, and when he half-hums it here and there, it is discordant. He moves closer to Tamsin without really thinking about it, but when he sees Imani pulling on the door after Erisi is at the panel, and it's not moving, he stops. He sets Kepp's head just outside the big metal doors, facing outward, like some kind of harvest festival squash. Then he looks up at the sheer size of the doors, shakes his head once to clear it, and holds out his hand. Then he holds up his other other, pulling in opposite directions, parting a sea of steel doors that, though protesting, do slide open sharply. There's only a fifteen foot gap, though - because that's all the gap he meant to leave. "Brrrrr." He moves on towards the now-open gap. "Door is open. Go inside," he calls out, but he just sounds tired rather than victorious.

[Bazine Netal]

Bazine Netal is still getting her bearings when she spots a small, black droid hovering nearby. "Search the area." she orders it, before turning her own attention to the same task. And along the way she looks amongst the wreckage tor something that might be useful later.

Preferably something that's not on fire.

The black Seeker Droid begins floating in a spiral search pattern, and it hasn't gone far before it chirps something.

Bazine takes a fist-sized object from her belt, turning slowly to look around as well. "We are not alone." She points. "Tracks in that direction. Large bipedal predator." She glances at the doors, then adds. "Everyone get inside." And that's when she thumbs the switch on the thermal detonator. Apparently she isn't going to be the first.

Bazine Netal suddenly brandishes the unmistakable form of a Thermal Detonator and with the press of a button, Bazine Netal activates it causing it to suddenly come to life with a series of flashing lights across its metallic surface!

[Errod Zand]

There's not much to complain about, really, other than the long list of things that have already gone and are currently going wrong, so Errod doesn't voice any complaints. He just gets on with it, tromping towards the doors along with the others and offering Tamsin a curt "He'll live five more minutes" as he passes by. The beep of Bazine's thermal detonator draws his attention, though, and rather than plowing ahead into the emptiness behind the doors, he turns to object.

"Put that thing away, you'll vaporize half of whatever it is, and we don't know what structural integrity this place has to start with. Few days, you might be wishing the half you vaporized /wasn't/ vaporized, understand? Right around the time you start wondering which of us would make the best meal. It's Syrus, by the way, I've already run through this in my head. Malik's too small."

[Malik Ren]

The heavy blast doors have been sealed for a long time. They're frozen shut by a locking mechanism at their panel, by the ice that seeps into everything here, freezing the doors shut and allowing Imani no purchase even after Erisi has wrangled the ancient lock into compliance.

But even the ice is no match for the might of the Force, here wielded by one new to its power, yet finding very much a path of aptitude within its labyrinth! The ice cracks and the heavy doors groan with a terrible metal scrape as Tarq shoves the blast doors open! There on the other side, there is indeed shelter -- this was once part of a rebel base, a frozen speeder and a few other craft left where they were forgotten. Snow has swept in here over the years from unseen cracks, but it's still better than outside.

There is no light and no life support, at least none operational at this juncture. There is no sound save for the wind howling outside, and here in the hastily forgotten remnants of other people's lives, it sounds like the moan of long-dead ghosts, restless now among the ideological children of their enemies.

They aren't the only threat, of course, as Something lurks outside -- something that Syrus could sense, something that frightened Andro's Tauntauns, something that Bazine's droid spotted making tracks in the snow... Malik is quick to usher everyone back inside, including a gesture to Bazine to switch off the detonator and follow with -- the droid too. "Save the detonator, Bazine. We will need it when we can see that thing, and I guarantee it will make itself known. Tamsin. Tend to the wounded," he's adding instructions to the (warm!) doctor, even as he reaches to hit an interior panel that will close the doors again!

They slam shut, and everything plunges into darkness.

Silence hangs a long moment, then eventually a lantern sputters to life, lifted up by Malik, now unmasked, face cast in unnatural shadow by the light.

"Well," he sighs. "Here we are."

And there they will remain.