Log:New Republic: Danger on Dellalt

Some Jedi and some mercs come across a downed shuttle

OOC Date: August 28, 2020
Location: Dellalt
Participants: Vhe Tenara, Merek, King, Karr'roga, Gaz, Kaaven, Ambrosia Greystorm, Elrych Cometburn

[Vhe Tenara]

Dellalt is not exactly the most hospitable planet in the Tion Cluster nor is it the easiest to get to but a civilian shuttle craft sent an broadband S-O-S that was picked up by passing cruisers and relayed to the Republic along the way. This is what has brought several ships into the system and landed as close as they could get to the coordinates that are still broadcasting. The last known status of the ship said they were making and emergency hard landing without equipment and its not too far off they can see the smoke on the horizon. Further in the plant life and terrain has been scored by something large but its going to be some off road trekking for the group who are currently in mixed company, but both here for the same reason.

The way there is not exactly the smoothest and it likely not get any better as they go on. Vhe is amongst them and as she picks her way amongst the rough terrain that borders on amazon like, she brushes wayward strands of hair from her face, catching her breath as pauses in a clearing. "Should have brought some more water. We have to walk back once we find them."

Merek is wearing the black and white void armor which he keeps with him, taking the time to walk from the shuttle to look around, bringing up the HUD while he begins to look around. A nod from the helmet.

"And well...after the run-in with the farmer's daughter, let's just say I can't go back to Corellia any time soon," King remarks with a chuckle, following after the Jedi lady with his hand lazily resting on the grip of his slugthrower. "Well...I reckon she'd be about seventy something, now, so it's probably safe," the Morellian adds. Those baby blues of his keep an eye on the path in front of them.

The man named King has brought along a couple of swarthy Shadowport types, but they're good people...for the most part. Just don't leave the lizard around any bodies for too long if you want to sleep easy that night.

The seething mass of scales and servo-armor in the darkness of the jungle moves forward before King with taloned footsteps. There is a violence radiating from the large Barabel, and with that great spear in his taloned hands? The violence moves to a fine and terrible - point. Every step causes that large tail to sway behind him, left-ot-right, right-to-left. Promising anyone not paying attention a smack that might send them flying and is an instinctive mechanism to keep predators from thinking an attack at the rear is safe...what is more, each breath from the Barabel causes vertical slits around his maw to open and 'wink'. Thermal pits scan the mess of leaves, while glittering yellow eyes, slitted, nictitate. The large creature pauses in his step and from Karr'roga comes a deep, crackling bellowing as the head turns this way and that - scanning his area with eyes, and thermal pits. The rumbling changing to the cacophonous hissing, before the large tail gives a heavy thud against the ground in growing irritation and aggression. The spear switching from one hand, to two.

Loping along after King, Gaz is laughing over the story and shaking her head, reaching up now and then to tug at an armor piece here or there, constantly readjusting it to fit better. Some thing swere just not crafted to fit a Shistavanen. Casting a glance around, she keeps her ears swivelling and nose scenting as they move. Not in full-on scout mode, but she's keeping an eye out. "Reminds me of the first crew I signed on with. There was this one guy, Andros. He-" she cuts off as Karr'roga starts getting agitated, head cocking to one side before looking around a little more closely.

Shattered trees, bulldozed undergrowth, plowed earth...it was a hard landing, indeed. The initial crash had scattered every ounce of wildlife capable of mobility for half a kilometer around, but bit by bit the fauna are returning to the settling scene. Among them are a pack of four-legged hunters, keen on sniffing out the origins of this intrusion upon their habitat.

Canoids. A pack of seven, to be precise. Stout of body and broad of snout, they nose about the crash site, trotting a wide berth of caution around the ship itself. For now.

"Mmmmph..." a bellow of air fogs the inside of a leaf-shrouded viewport, exhaled from a flare of green nostrils under a scaly rostral ridge. The Vurk sitting in the copilot's chair stirs within the confines of her harness and that bruised, caudal crest bumps around till she rears her head back successfully and sits upright out of the unconscious slump. Sallow eyes blink to her left to eyeball the motionless captain of this craft. Somehow, her innate dislike for the chill of spaceflight feels justified in this moment, but if they were doomed to crash, at least they had the decency to do so in a warm, humid environment.

Some days it does not pay to get out of bed. Kaavenn is scrambling around rocks in a hurry. He was in the midst of dealing with a blown op, all his gear and cover gone for now. So he is making headway away from trouble to run into trouble of another kind. He was trying to skirt the what appears to be a crash site in his withdrawl. Blissfully unaware of a rescue party ahead, the Shistavanen is easily able to pick out a path among the rough terrain, signs of a trained scout or at least observant sentient. He practically skids to a halt, given his rush to head away from... whatever he was heading away to, he's found himself suddenly face to face with a rescue crew and he blinks at them all in surprise. He should have stayed in bed, no contract was worth this.

Elrych was with Vhe, not far off, bush wacking along as they head towards the shuttle. The Jedi kept the hood of his dark green cloak up for now. "I don't suppose we can conjure water through the force like the darksiders can, fire?" It was a good question... and one that had an abvious answer of no. He furrowed his brows, "I'm not sensing anything up ahead..." He wasn't overly skilled at that, the war had dictated what he focused on in a larg3e part reguarding his Force trainings.

The group is not likely to encounter anything good out here and Karr'roga senses light up with the predators in the area. They are not alone and that ship ahead is not alone either. The smell of injured, blood and more has drawn attention - not to mention the crash itself which as the group presses forward they will see is a savage rending of the earth. Its very obvious the shuttle meant to try to land where they did and had to overshoot or dig their nose into the ground and end them all at once.

As the Captain comes to there are snarls outside and the crash becomes something of a beacon for all of them. Those last few tall full trees were blocking their view but once clear they can make out the creatures circling the craft....four...maybe five? No seven possibly more if they are around the other side of the craft.

Vhe is about to reply to Elrych when she sees this and her breath catches as she notes one of the creatures rushing at the torn opening of the craft. Its trying to claw its way up the durasteel with a scraping and scrabbling that screeches in the open air. Its learning though, finding foot holds as it gets closer and a scream can be heard from a passenger.

There are many smaller predators that go bump in the night in the terrestrial bits of Dellalt, but the canoids are among the top kings of feasting here. They stand just over a meter high at the shoulder and are covered in a thin, bristly coat of mottled browns, cream, and reds. A thick, black crest of hair spikes from saggital crest to shoulders of these beasties and broad, receptive ears fan out from either side of skull. Their agile tails whip behind them for balance when they run but have a more dextrous, prehensile purpose when navigating the forest floor or climbing to low branches of trees. Snaggletooth fangs present a somewhat ugly mug to any who look upon them, made all the more intimidating when the lips curl to form a genuine snarl.

Curiosity had turned to hunger when the whiff of wounded flesh seeps out through the torn hull. One of the creatures is putting their climbing skills to use, grabbing hold of rent durasteel with its tail for balance while the forepaws scrabble at the existing gap and paw at the broken body within reach. Thickened jowls cram their muzzle into the space, snapping eagerly at what they can't quite taste. Yet.

The screams continue, as this human crewmember is trapped beneath what was once a storage locker. They've yet to realize that they cannot feel their lower half, but sense the imminent threat to those extremities nonetheless. Far ahead in the nose of the craft, Rakaal is struggling to free herself of the harness. Her concussed brain is making fine motor tasks difficult, but eventually she manages to slip free and catches the weight of her stumble with three-fingered hands.

Merek looks to the creatures which they come upon, then he takes up his F-11, with a nod for the party, taking the time to settle into a kneel next to a tree, <"Alright, looking... I've managed to find an advantageous position for you all, if you want to take them or if you want to be peaceful.>" A nod for the Jedi, while he begins to shift the HUD upon the creatures, then he motions to places for folk to stand if they like.

"Oh, that ain't no good," King says, looking off in the direction that Karr'roga started sniffing. The scream leaps him into action, though and he starts running in that direction, his slugthrower loosing itself from its holster and firing off a shot in one quick movement. It rips through one of the canoids and King's feet spread, the man leaning hard on one knee as he fans two more shots away. Both of them hit straight and true, sending the dog spilling onto the ground, dead.

The thermal display of so many lifeforms leaves the Barabel glaring outward at the many signatures. First and foremost? His crew. His. Crew. There's another slap of that thick tail, breaking sticks and leaves, while the Barabel's rumbling grows louder. "Once blood entersss the air, morrre will come." This growled at King, and as King opens fire? King and Karr'roga are like an old married couple who just act without talking. When the Mustache Master opens fire, Karr'roga does not make a sound - charging at The Pack, spear brandished and closing the distance with terrible speed. Not a sound in the moment of killing, no roaring or growling: Just a thrust of the spear that sends the broadhead shuddering past the throat of one of the canoids.

Gaz pulls her blaster as things start happening, a ground of mongrels starting to attack. This wasn't what she'd come for, but now that she was here, she sure as kriff wasn't giving up that easily! Lifting the blaster, she takes quick aim and squeezes off a pair of rounds. Unfortuantely, her aim needs work and the red bolts fly wide of any of the Canoids. "Kriff! I knew I should have invested into a canon..."

Vhe's instincts are correct technically, the group has encountered something not exactly good out here in the form of Kaavenn. He shakes his head and his ears twitch, he most have taken a harder fall than he realized as he finds himself practically in the thick of it in regards to a downed shuttle. The only thing of his gear left is his trusty stun baton, and it is in his hand specifically for these reasons. Though first he has to come to grin with JEDI! No time to duck and escape now, there's canoids to consider and... "Gaz?!" His head shakes again, clearly he's having that bad of a day, now he's halucinating someone from his youth. Maybe he should not have smashed that mirror after all. Canoid! He lunges forwards hard with a snarl of sheer rage at something so simple trying to ruin his day as if Jedi were not bad enough! The baton arcs in a sparkling uppercut and and Kaavenn nearly takes his own face off when he completely fails to connect hard. He skids to a stop and snarls. "Can it get any worse? What else can possibly go wrong?!"

Elrych paused, turning to look at Vhe as his own danger sense kicked in. He unhooked the black and angel shine cylinder from his utility belt. When his blue eyes fell upon the wreckage and the pack attacking it, he was as quick to light it as Vhe was hers. The snap-hiss and telltale hum coming to life. his free hand reached out, grabbing onto a hunk of scrap from the crash with an invisible force, and tossed it towards the pack.

The approaching group of rescuers allow for some reprieve as they open fire and run straight into the mix of the canoids. Vhe turns about, watching as Karr'roga suddenly rushes past them all and she is hot on his heels and this is the reason she can distract one of them off of him. She twists about with a flare of her pale blade, slamming down hard upon the body of the wild creature, drawing a cry before it quiets quickly as its body smokes as she follows through the motion and about to stand beside the large reptile as she notes is injury.

"Its okay, stay close....they are fewer now." She lowers into a ready position to ward off any others at his back. The injured figure is kept in her sights as the hiss of her blade is near silent save for the moisture in the air that sizzles.

"Captain..." the husky warble of Rakaal's voice stirs the downy feathers framing the Fosh's face. What was once a brilliant plummage is now dull and graying. Pink, serus liquid dribbles out the nares Her captain is dying. If not already dead. Rakaal's reptilian form is much sturdier and resiliant and after a long moment of staring with sad resignation at the lifeless form, she unfurls to full height inside the disheveled cockpit. One thickly scaled finger reaches out to test the intercom, but to no avail. The ship's comm is silent and her words do not carry.

In the rear of the craft, the drama surrounding that bent cargo lift continues to unfold. The canoid wriggles its way further inside the gap and manages to snag a flightsuit leg with its claws. Its rear feet pedal the air, occasionally finding grip on the surface and propelling its mass nearer and nearer to its sought-after snack. The owner of the flightsuited leg has grabbed up every loose object within reach and hurled it at the canoid's emerging head in attempt to drive it off. It seems not to be so easily deterred and, with a chuckling whine, claims its prize. A boot. Inside that boot is a foot and for that reason, it is not easily separated from the leg. Much tugging and gnawing will be required, if it is to taste more than synthleather.

The shouts escalate in pitch and desperation.

While hungry boi is too occupied with his prey to give a damn, the rest of the pack has become acutely aware of just how problematic these interloping bodies can be! It begins with a pained yelp as King's slugs pound through the thick pelt and rip that canoid a new one. Thrice over. Five sets of steely black eyes turn to fixate on the bipedal strangers and fuzzy ears twitch to and fro on vigilant swivel. One among the pack yips, to which another cackles high in the throat. Two of them growl, softly, but they remain relatively quiet in the chaotic eruption of snapping, fur-flying frenzy to follow. When lizard man's spear fails to skewer hungry boi's mate, she wheels around on a dime and launches herself right back at the Barabel with vengeance. And hunger. In a way, the mammal and reptile are kindred spirits and she recognizes him for what he is - a predator. But this is a land of 'eat or be eaten' so she responds with such fury as to NOT be on the menu. Likewise, one of the pack lunge for Merek, one for King, and another for Karr'roga which is (fortunately) intercepted and slain by Vhe. Another pack member was too slow to dodge the chunk of wreckage hurled its way by mystical forces and it gets bowled ass-over-snout, right into the flank of the sixth canoid, which earns it a snap and snarl from its unsympathetic brother who then charges at the human (Elrych) responsible for the collision. Unknowingly, of course.

Merek looks to the fight while the creatures begin to engage with the party, then he nods a bit beginning to adjust from that cover. When one comes to him, he would begin to shift to the side into a roll, sliding up onto a foot while he snaps the F-11 towards that one, then as the being turns around to come back to him, he takes aim, then would fire. The blaster bolt manages to kill one of them, then he swings about to stand up while he points to the field, first to Gaz, "You, dodge right and swing at it from that position, you!" he sweeps a point to Kaavenn, "Take that position," then a nod to Vhe, "Guard him, make a shield, trust in the Force!" The man then lifts up his weapon to point along to another, "We can win, form a unit!" The man sweeps up to defend Tenara and Karr'roga. That man works like a warrior.

"Roga, you make sure none of 'em get to the pilot," King says, stepping forward and hefting his revolver. A shot is fired and it puts the hurt on one of 'em, but his next two fly wide as he has to jump out of the way of an impending dog attack.

Standing up and brushing himself off, King's revolver does a flashy little spin and ends up tucked back into his holster, the man taking off in a sprint towards the dog at the back of the craft.

Teeth bite into the right arm of the Barabel, and thick blood fill the creature's mouth. Karr'roga bellows into the forest and violence, and with a twist of that arm he tries to jam the spear at two more of the creatures; hissing as he misses.

Turning at the howl from Karr'roga, Gaz winces at the bite and takes aim at another of the Canoids, squeezing off another pair of shots. The first one at least manages to wing one of the beasts, even if the second shots flies harmlessly overhead to the far distance. "Woo! Got one! Wait! Which pilot?!" Mention of a pilot has Gaz looking towards King, then back around the field.

Lightsaber action! Kaavenn was not expecting all this today, not one bit. He blinks as he gets pointed at by someone. He debated resisting, using the distractions of the canoids to slip away. But, it's not a terrible idea. Bounding, he is on the move like an experienced scout. The Enforcer firing does catch his attention briefly, that is a hell of a bang. He skids around a boulder, claws digging as he goes. A barabel in pain, not the best of signs. He's lost sight of the possible-gaz. He leaps forewards once more, trying for an overhand swing to crush canoid skull. Another swing and a miss! Later he'll just blame the Jedi Glowstick distraction, and stick to that story.

Elrych was a skilled Niman fighter as it suited his typical fighting style well, yet it offered not real advantage or disadvantage in a fight. It was a very even and good mixed form to work under. It Incorporated everything from all forms one through five and used what was best for each. HE twirled his blade about with skill and inhuman agility, cutting into the charging canoid and splitting the beat in two. Lunch anyone? HE pressed against two more, but they were fast an eluded his blade for now. The Jedi moved to stay close to Vhe and rally the others. A single blue eyes glance towards Merek, "Spooky Cloak, do you even know the amount of concentration it would take to maintain a shield to protect all of us? Be realistic here..." Great Jedi had performed such feats in the distant pass... Vhe and El weren't that great, yet anyways.

As more go down the shuttle is far less likely to be boarded by the native fauna. Vhe stays close to Karr'roga and as the injured one tries to take cover and possibly raise the alarm for other creatures in the area she reaches out with the Force. She narrowly grasps at the fleeing target but it slips through the extension of her will to begin making its break for it. Rocks skitter and a few leaves twirl as if cut and fallen by some unseen force before the Ysanna gives up the folly presently and remains to block entrance to the ship.

The heat is getting to her, causing her stray hairs to stick to her brow and cheeks, twisting about within the ragged and torn undergrowth as she calls out to those within. "Help is here! It is nearly clear and then we will evacuate you!" She tries to be reassuring as she watches the other blade, deeper blue dance about. Elrych is given a nod as the others are given a look.

Yelps and snarls abound as more of the canoids fall in this vicious territorial dispute. They were not outnumbered, but they are being overpowered. One of the injured hesitates on the perimeter of the fight now, nursing a fractured leg and some bruised ribs. Its instincts are torn between joining its kin in the fray or slinking off to a dark copse of underbrush to lick its wounds. By contrast, two of the beasts are still seeing red and unable to process thought beyond 'KILL'. That one that was busy chewing holes through the toe of the crewman's boot (and toes) finally stalls its dinner efforts to drop free of the ship and face the rapid approach of King. Black, bristly hackles rise to meet the challenger, exposing a few sharpened quills hidden amongst the mane. A gutteral growl and snort is punctuated by a licking of chops, and flaring of lips to better taste the essence of he who DARES disturb this meal. Then they skirt the ground lowly, snapping at the legs of the man when he's within range.

"WE'RE ALIVE!!!" muffled cries of the very hoarse crewman answer back to Vhe's calls. They struggle to wriggle out from under the locker, but it just isn't within their strength to do so. Everything hurts. Cept the parts that don't because they can't be felt at all.

"Jad!" Rakaal calls, moving aftward through the wreck with slow progression. The lighting is sputtering its death throes and sparks spit from the occasionally smoky panel in bulkhead and underfoot. After a time, she's met with a more difficult obstacle, in form of a jammed blastdoor. It's the hatch that leads from ship proper into the cargo bay. All attempts to open it conventionally are met with disappointed as all the door does is shudder and groan.

Continuing his sprint towards the ship, King's eyes lock onto the canoid that's giving the poor survivor hell. Closing the distance quickly, King shouts "C'mere, you good for nothin' mutt!" and leaps into the air, lunging at it and wrapping an arm around it's neck, snapping its head around and away from the poor crewman's foot.

Colliding to the ground and with an arm still around it, King starts to swing away at the hound, punching it as hard and as quick as he can in the head, the area resonating with dull thunks. The dog yelps and manages to shake King loose, hopping away and turning back on his with a snarl.

Merek keeps assisting while he points people to what to do, beginning to fire into that one that was already injured. A nod along to the party, while he would follow along to assist.

The teeth had torn into Barabel hide, and as such? Barabel blood blackens the ground, slickens the debris; and it is Barabel claws that come for the nearest Canoid. The large tail swings, and misses. A wild claw? Misses. But there is one that, when it catches the Canoid, does so -just- right: That the bladed gauntlet on Karr'roga's wrists and hands also slashes the creature open. They can only think of 'Kill'.

Karr'roga, can only think of 'Kill'. When the last Canoid goes down, so will Karr'roga's maw set loose another bellow before driving down to catch the creature by the back of the neck and start violently whipping it around - caking the Barabel in blood, while the wound in his right arm freely bleeds. Long talons offering to peel the creature apart as the others are present - at the moment blind to anything else.

Down to two, they've nearly won! Gaz might get a little excited at the prospect, her finger squeezing off the shots before she's properly taken aim. Wincing as the shots go wide, then cheering on those to follow! "Woo! C'mon, just a little more! We got these mutts on the run!"

Oh there's here to help these people, right. Jedi. Not here to loot, or imprison. In theory. Kaavenn has other concerns however, the canoids are being whittled down at least. Yet he still has no place to go. Even the muffled cries give the Shistavanen a brief mental pause. Bad way to go, he sighs as the Galaxy apparently had other plans for him today, even if it means no Twi'lek massage later. King grabs his attention, actually his HAT grabs Kaavenn's attention, so he runs after him in support. He turns his glowing red eyes towards a voice he could swear is... his head shakes it off. Distraction here could get them killed, likely King doesn't really need his help, but since the Canoid hops away to turn back on the gunslinger, the least he can do is firmly brain it into a new plane of existence. The club comes down hard with a meaty thwack!

"Go on, Get!" Elrych shouts as he calls upon the force, his time manipulating the very air monocules between him and one of he creatures. THe air pressure expands and then contracts, causing a short yet powerful airburst. There is a clap of thunder and a short gust of wind as that beast goes flying away into the brush. He turns his head to look upon the wreckage and the crew inside.

As the rest of the wild canoids are dealt with, Vhe rolls her thumb over the button on her saber and the blade disappears. The soft whir that was nearly imperceptible is gone and she clips the cylinder back to her belt as she runs towards the shuttle and then drags herself into a position to get a look at what remains. She focuses her attention, hand outstretching when she notes the struggling figure. The lockers shift and she holds her breath, doing her best not to move them atop the poor trapped figure. "Hold on.." she manages to say and with a careful steady if shaky grip on the force she tries to move it aside. Her focus is broken slightly buts he manages not to do any more harm by sheer will.

It takes her more than a few moments to shuffle the heavier item to the side, screeching, creaking and then setting it down where it can do no harm. "The way is clear.." she pants, feeling the heat take her senses along with the over exertion with the Force. The Initiate side steps out of the way, offering a hand to any that seek to exit the shuttle. The question is, how many are alive?

Merek looks to the wreckage while beginning to move that way, then he takes a moment to open his medpak while he finds a few people, "Come on, we need to treat them before we move them, and I can triage as they come about," he states. The man begins to assist in disinfecting then cleaning up with that kit.

With Kaavenn coming in to finish the Canoid off, King presses himself up off of the ground and once again goes about brushing himself off, reaching up to tip the brim of his hat to the man. "Thank you kindly, pard," he says, turning to look back to the crashed shuttle and limping towards it. Must've landed wrong. At least he's got something in common with the shutle crew. Clipping the straps over his revolvers, King will move to step towards the shuttle, climbing aboard it and spotting the angry reptile. "Easy, now. Lemme take a look at it," King says in his most confident assuring tone. The Morellian moves to kneel down next to the panel and pulls a pouch of tools from his belt. Popping the cover off, he digs around at the wiring inside before he eventually manages to pick his favorite handful and yank them right out. "That oughta do it."

extinguishes his lightsaber, moving over towards the wreckage as he places the cylinder back on his belt. As people start to move off, Elrych attempts to lift a more impared pasanger, yet the wispy tall drink of water is not at all built for such encounters being a man of grace and speed over all.