Log:Resistance: Jungle Fever
Resistance: Jungle Fever
OOC Date: November 5, 2018
Location: Felucia
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm(GM/NPC Lt Quish), Nova Korell, Poe Dameron, David Ironside, Ektor(Pvt Lasermine)
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Viewing the jungles of Felucia for the first time could be likened to tripping on a borked batch of exotic spice. The color schemes explode the imagination, bizarre creatures creep about with transparent, shimmering skins, mushrooms and other fungi climb and swell well overhead - some to the size of starships, which sometimes begs the question: IS the 'ground' you're squelching around on actually the jungle floor? Or just another layer of canopy...
The Resistance soldiers have landed here in paradise to thwart the First Order hunters from catching their ellusive, refugee prey, those 'Church of the Force' people who sent the distress signal that led to this whole operation being deployed. So...blame them. After hiking a little safe distance away from their transportation, the Res contingent has decided to bait the enemy rather than trying to track down these mobile needles in a very dense, dangerous haystack. And nothing screams 'COME AND GET US' quite like explosives, so...the case of charges is dropped in the purple bed of moss. A cloud of spores wafts up and away.
"Ugh," A word - and probably not the first - of displeasure rasps over comm from Vorskyr Platoon's new leader, Lt Farya Quish. She's brought along two squads of soldiers for the occasion, plus a couple specialty additions to the party. "Let's corral these sneaky bastards, turn'em into Acklay fodder, then blast off before any of us get crotch rot in this place. Those 'Church of the Force' folk are welcome to it." She eyes the fusia slime oozing off the heel of her boot as she rolls another step forward. "Nexxu Squad, spread out and start deploying our survey drones. We'll handle the explosives. Korell!" she barks. "Where's Yelsik? Have him make the fire, then get your troops into position. And get comfy." After all, who knows how long they'll have to wait before there's an enemy TO ambush!
Cmdr Poe Dameron was knelt down near the treeline of a dense wall of foliage. It wasn't clear initially what he was doing until he tugged his gloves off and began adjusting his boots. Given the humidity of this planet and the terrain they were on, he needed to loosen his boots to allow for his ankles to have a bit more wiggle-room. Sure, the boots were meant for support, but traveling jungle terrain like this caused an amazing amount of stress on the ankles, and being able to move quickly under fire and not having your ankles snap was a plus. He wore the standard issue armor for the troopers, but only sported a single, heavily modified DL-44 blaster, which remained snug in the drop-leg quickdraw holster strapped to his right thigh. He also wore a camo poncho which hid much of his upper body and torso. The synthfiber it was woven from gave it a carefree presence in the wind, but it was thick enough to keep from tearing and ripping at the first sign of foliage snags. Poe also wore a breathing apparatus that filtered the air he breathed. He'd read far too much about this planet. He knew that even the plants tried to kill here. The only thing Poe didn't wear was a helmet, thus leaving his hair to its own design. "What area are we setting up our ambush at, Lt?" Poe asked, his voice amplified by the voice emitter on the mask.
David Ironside is there, decked out in trooper gear like the others, stomping around the mushy undergrowth. "This whole planet.. am I on drugs?" he wonders aloud, but not too loudly. "Did Apollyon spike my water bottle?" Seeing as he's not so much in a squad, he hangs back while orders are barked to and fro. Demo charges would probably just find a new and exciting way to go off in his hands, either way. Noting the spores coming up, he handily pulls up a breathing mask to cover his exposed face. Same as Poe Dameron, he doesn't carry a rifle, but a standard-issue blaster. With some modifications made to it, but that was before the pilot owned it, so as far as he knows, it's standard-issue and everyone has that one.
Stepping away from the foot of the ramp, Nova pauses to look around. She doesn't miss the El-Tee's signs of disgust... and isn't forming a better opinion of this place herself. She checks her weapon carefully, as if contact with the air might already have started inducing corrosion and functionality issues. "I can't believe /anyone/ would try to set up a headquarters on this fungus factory /willingly/," she mutters. "Force, if we didn't have to save them..."
She looks back over her shoulder. "Yelsik! Front and center, you're on fire-making detail! Just make sure everyone but Firsters are out of your blast radius," she adds quickly, her First Order accent an oddity in this pan-galactic force of arms. "Platoon, need you out here and in position, sharpish. We have an ambush to prepare." It'll be a moment, so she begins looking for the best place to set up to burn down incoming Stormies. The trouble, of course, being the sheer amount of directions the enemy could come from. At least, with the bizarre kaleidoscope of this world's color palette, there should be no trouble seeing the black and white armored foes coming...
"I know I say this a lot, but this time it's true: we could have really used some perimeter mines on this op," Private Blair Lasermine opines, with a tight smile to the trooper beside him as he lends a hand in seeing the drones deployed and the explosives prepared. Conversationally Blair adds, "Say, Lieutenant's just kidding about the crotch rot, right?" Never mind! He hops to when the Corporal orders.
"Looks like Yelsik is setting up his rig thereabouts," Lt Quish gestures to where the Pvt's wandering off to with his charges, "so we'll be staying back /here/. Once Nexxu returns from putting our eyes in the sky, they'll reform with us and we can spread a perimeter about here. If we lay low enough, stand a chance at drawing them ALL the way in to get caught in the crossfire, but at the very least, we'll reduce our blindspots to their approach. And have a broader eye open for any inbound wildlife." She grimaces behind her own little respirator and turns to start marking out potential sweet spots for cover.
Some hefty, fleshy foliage catches her eye. Red and white petals tip coyly aside to catch the midday light. Er. The light's actually better /that/ way. So why's it looking at her?
Poe follows the description of their fighting area and turns to see where they can set up for cover. He doesn't like that their rear position will be exposed to wildlife, but perhaps adjusting the defense of one squad might see that their six is covered while the bulk of their ambush teams is facing ahead. Poe is about to walk toward their staging area when he sees a white and red flower move, and another begins to unfurl. His hand rests atop his blaster as he watches the plant life move on its own. "Plants are coming to life over here. Make sure you're wearing something to protect against the spores." Poe notices that the center of that flower begins puckering around some sort of orifice, but he cannot make it out.
"Guessing shooting the plants won't stop them.." David muses at Poe's observation. He'd seen the plants move but passed it off as a trick of the light until Poe mentioned it. At his side, just for a mission like this, David has a vibroblade. It's slender, able to be wielded in a single hand ideally. On the small of his back, strapped to a belt is a vibrodagger in a sheath. Can't say the pilot by trade didn't come prepared. "Anyone know what those spores do?" he asks the group in general. He himself is safe from spores with the respirator in place, but it doesn't hurt to inform oneself.
"Just in case anyone slept through the briefing, I suggest following the Captain's advice," Nova coms to her troops, having kept her sealed helmet on the whole time. Predictably, her nose is itching. Doesn't it always, when you have the fishbowl on?
"This place has the biggest flowers I've ever seen," she observes, noting several not far away from the ambush area. "It always makes me feel like I'm in one of those old holoanimation shorts where the heroes are chroma-neeks."
"This flower isn't gonna.. grow teeth and bite us, is it?" Lasermine wonders, eyeing an overlarge blossom. Poe's warning about spores is enough to draw a wince. Nova gets a nod, and a returned "Understood, Corporal." David's question gets a curt, "Let's find out," and Blair brings his weapon up, intent on blasting the nearest suspicious flower. Sure there are plenty more, but it'll make him feel a bit better.
The meaty center of that flirtacious blossoma quits its winking for a moment, mystery sphinctor swollen and still. Until it isn't. A sudden contraction spurts a pink, acrid globule with disconcerting accuracy at Poe, then the stalk twists aside and base begins to undulate along the ground like it's running away. Awkwardly. Likewise, other flowers are spitting at those who got a little too close to stepping on their roots but aren't exactly sharpshooters.
"Eeyuck!" Quish proclaims hushedly while narrowly avoiding being splatted by much of the same. "What in the hell? I dunno, Ironside, probably nothing good. But doubt it's as bad as /that/.." she watches the moss wither and die rapidly under the poisonous glob where it landed. "Just...just maybe don't use one for cover?"
And before they can go on the anti-flower warpath, Yelsik announces "READY!" Which is everyone else's cue to TAKE COVER! Nexxu squad begins to materialize from the places they vanished to and hang patiently along the safety perimeter.
Begins to step backward when the flower arches up and hocks a snot rocket at him. Trying to dodge, Poe trips and falls backward, narrowly avoiding the glob of nasty, but it's landed between his legs and begins to kill the ground and plant life where he'd been. He pulls his blaster this time, content to retaliate, but the damned thing ran off and Poe didn't think it smart to chase after a flower to blast it. "Not sure shooting anything on this planet will stop it." Poe says back to David while climbing back to his feet. "But if you wanted to know what it did.." He points to the ground and shakes his head. Nova's communication buzzes in his ear, but it isn't something for him, but rather, her squad. Shortly after, one of the soldiers yelled they were finished with their task and everyone began to move in. Poe finds the biggest rock he can, pushes on it some to ensure the damned thing isn't anything else but a rock, then sallies up to it watching their six but intending to peek around to fire when their intended prey sprung the trap. He held his blaster at a low ready, the setting to kill, and waits.
"Can't even trust your cover here!" David calls out as he dodges away from any would-be projectiles, focusing on the mission more than not getting gooped on. It'll be fine, right? Armorers keep these kinds of biomes in mind when they make armor. His blaster comes out, blades kept sheathed for now. "Ready when you are." he reports to the person in charge of the charges.
"On /this/ planet? It might," Nova comments mildly to the private. Which is about when Poe nearly gets an unwanted acid shower, and other card-carrying members of the local flora make their displeasure known to the Resistance's local representatives. "If you can find a rock to hide behind, stick to it like it's your best friend." On this world, it's probably the closest thing you'll find.
The cry goes up for detonation. "Heads down, Nexu..." Nova says, following her own advice. "Showtime!"
Blair Lasermine mumbles a short, "You're LUCKY," at the stupid giant deadly flower as the Flora is spared by imminent detonation. "You're probably First Order Flora, and your mother was a petunia!" as the trooper hastens to take cover, blaster at the ready. "I got a rock," he affirms to Nova, head down awaiting 'showtime'.
BOOOOOOOOOM......oooom...oom...
The charges blast a shower of detritus and fungal pluffs high into the air, peppering the area with smoked debris. And again, for good measure. By the time it's over, flapping flappers have flown away shrieking, a pair of Tee-muss errupt at full gallop out of the nearby fungi line to flee the scene, and a gelagrub (much larger than any man) is shaken loose from its giant mushroom cap waaaaay up high and falls to the earth, landing with a resounding SPLAT. The thick, semi-transparent skin splits at the seams upon impact, rendering a mortal wound, even as the gentle giant tries to amble along on its way.
So...success? Surely it's gotten the desired attention. And they wait....and wait...and eventually there's a hiss of excitement from Nexu's leader over the comms. "Lt Quish, we have movement, headed this way from...34 degrees, East."
"Excellent," Quish purrs and slaps the side of her helmet. "Vorskyr Platoon! Get ready to leave a mark in Lt Korell's memory!" She, herself, is pressed against the firm sponge of a shroom and pivots to set a line of sight on whatever's coming this way. "Nexu, keep tabs on our six!"
Poe crouches down and waits for the blast to follow. It's literally jarring, and leaves his ears ringing even after he had covered them with his gloved hands. It takes a moment to shake off the disorientation from the concussive blast, but this is accomplished by shaking his head briefly. When the dust and debris settle from the blast, the mock distress signal goes out, and it's what brings the subsequent war party. Poe has to really focus on listening, but when he hears the scuffling from the blasted foliage, he eases about the rock pieing until he has one trooper in view. Three shots are fired, but only one sinks into a Sergeant, spilling him backward but certainly not killing him. The surprise is had then! Poe ducks back behind cover!
Much less affected by the blast, thanks to the helmet David elected to wear with the rest of the armor, the lieutenant is quick to recover, pointing his blaster at the group of stormtroopers quietly. Then a twig of some kind snaps under his boot. As Poe opens fire, so does David, errantly to cover for his screw-up with the underbrush. A grunt of pain is evidence that the pilot hit -something-, at least, but what it was, exactly, he doesn't know. Not one of the white-armored troopers, anyway.
Faced with this alien environment, Nova's knowledge of tactics proves to be of little help. On the other hand, no tactical expertise is required to hear the Stormtroopers coming. They're /not/ trained in stealth. She would know!
Granted, the terrain works against more than her tactical skill. The Sergeant she fires at manages to slip in some of the local ground-slime, and miraculously evades what should have been a bantha's-eye shot. "Frell... take 'em, Resistance!"
Blair Lasermine hears the vector of approaching enemies, but finds himself downwind of the plume formed of mixed smoke, spores and- whatever that giant falling splatter thing was. "I have no visual," he reports tersely, peering through the scope in vain for a clear target.
Indeed, the awaiting party of Resistance mongrels wasn't exactly what the First Order troopers had expected to find when reaching the site of what had appeared to be a crash, from afar. But, when life gives you Resistance....you push back. Or shoot, in this case.
The first to be struck is the Sergeant, knocked well off his feet by the closeness of Poe's shot. It burns deeply, managing to find one of those weak spots under the breast plate and although he's not quite dead, he's not sure he wants to be alive anymore, either, and isn't getting up. Yet. Rifles, pistols, carbines come up on all sides and the hail of blasterfire errupts in an array of colors almost as pretty as their surroundings. Lt Quish's quick one-two leaves a stormie dead in the dirt but her brief swing around the fungitree left her side exposed to the merciless retaliation from he(or she!) who hides in the shadows. Although struck by Dave's lucky blast, the Shadow Trooper Captain gives it back good as he got, if not better. And Lasermine...poor Lasermine, fighting the dastardly shift in the wind has the way lit FOR him, when a well-placed shot picks him out of the lineup.
The violent commotion raging in this small patch of fungi forest is about to awaken more than just the flapping flyers and ambling gelagrubs, of course, because it just isn't Felucia without an overkilling maelstrom of bad company. The slippery ground under foot becomes a little less stable all of a sudden when a nearby fungal shoot the size of a rowhouse finally succumbs to injury sustained during the initial blasts and SLAMS into the ground, crushing several smaller shrooms, plants, and the left leg of that downed Stormtrooper Sergeant. His enraged/agonized scream is drown out by blaster rapport. Freak act of nature...or act of freak nature?
Where once stood that magnificent tower of toxic delight, a different sort of giant is taking shape in the haze of spores and ozone. But what IS it, standing there? Or sulking? With its hunched posture and beady stare over knobby shoulder, it certainly /looks/ like it's sulking. The jungle rancor - notably different from its larger taxonomical kin - was undoubtedly made for this habitat.. It's barely over 8 feet tall, but certainly heftier than any other sentient here and built like a tank. Blue and grey skin is riddled with stubby orange spines and a heavily ridged carapace safeguards its spine and vitals from above, much like a turtle. Thick, veiny webbing spans between its unfurling claws and heavyset, beaked jaw opens widely to bellow a deafening complaint.
Baby just woke up. And baby is cranky.
"What.... is... that..?"Poe asks as a bolt burns across the surface of the rock where he'd just been. Watching this rancor rise up, Poe's eyes got large and he moved closer to the rest of the unit, moving away but still firing at it. Poe found that running and gunning was not near as easy as it seemed, but a sense of fear put him in motion, and he sought out a further bit of cover having been unsuccessful with even hitting the damned thing. He planted his back to another rock and checked his blaster, then peeked around to see what was happening with the firefight.
"A rancor!" David calls out, turning away to warn others nearby. "There's a rancor!" It's big, but it's a baby, but it's still big, and the first one David's ever seen in a firefight. Or in person. The time spent warning others is enough for a blaster to strike him in the side of the chest, the majority of damage absorbed by the armor but still superheating his skin through it. The force of the blast is enough to throw him off his feet, and he scrambles back to get a hold of his pistol and return fire. Of course, from his altered position, the shots don't even come close, but the bigger target would feel nothing except for murderous annoyance. It's a trade-off.
Shutting out /most/ of the distracting wildlife, Nova draws a quick bead and fires again. This time, there's no convenient patch of slime to save her target: The Shadow Trooper. She's well aware that without the leadership of the Stormie Sergeant (killed by an act of freaky nature) and the black-clad monster in Human form, the Stormtroopers are likely to collapse into a gagglefuck of panic.
She looks up as David shouts the alarm for the one piece of local fauna (flora?) that's impossible to ignore. "Stay clear of that thing, Nexu! Maybe it'll go after the Firsters!" she directs.
Of course, Poe and David do outrank her, so she can't tell /them/ not to shoot at it. Hopefully the Stormtroopers will be better at getting its attention than they are...
A pained snarl, and the unmistakable stench of scorched durasteel and burnt flesh arise from Private Lasermine. A curse follows, as he snaps off a hasty shot back, hammering his tormentors with a square blast of red energy as Blair himself tries to duck into better cover. "I'm hit.. It's not good." Then, there is a rancor. Poe's incredulous query is answered, "That? That is bad."
A long, garbled whuffling sound breathes stinky mist from the jungle rancor's flaring nares as it cranes its head 'round far as that leathery neck can reach, then STOMP-STOMP pivots the rest of its body around to survey the riotous little bipeds who've disturbed its slumber. "Nnnehgst Rrrrhuuu..." says the rancor, and a shuddering sigh blasts the aroma of fermenting gut juice over the scrambling soldiers. Its cumbersome head is bowing for a closer look at the one trapped beneath the fungitrunk, either ignorant or uncaring of the blaster bolts that go streaking by its shell.
The pinned stormtrooper cannot offer even a cry of protest because shock has taken its toll. Similar shouts of warning are belted among the remaining FO troopers and it's in this equal state of distraction that Lasermine's opponent is smacked with a serious hit and staggers aside to take a knee. The Shadow Trooper is mid hop over a felled log to put a little more distance between self and the behemoth when Nova's shot catches them squarely in the shoulder. It's the second wound, a deeper wound, and they stumble the rest of the way over, crouching for a moment's recovery to reassess the situation and issue a new set of orders.
"Don't shoot it!!!" Lt Quish cries out over comms, her own eyes resembling deep blue pools of fear. But fear's good. Keep you sharp! Which is why the next thing that moves in her field of vision gets a hole in its head. Its buckethead. The stormtrooper slumps over and disappears into a ploof of yellow, spongy not-rock. "Just be still!!" Easier said than done, when quaking in your boots, but she crouches down, holding her breath. "And...y'know. Be ready to run!"
Evidently the rancor finds these new guests offensive and before that stormtrooper lucky enough thus far to remain unscathed can even draw a bead on its studded chest, the angry reptile swipes a massive backhand through the brush at the white mask. Somehow, when the heavy WHOOSH has passed, the trooper pops back up. Not squashed.
Poe only has a moment where he can open fire, and he takes that opportunity, stepping out to blast the Captain square in the chest. His subsequent shots go wild, but the damage was done with the first shot, so Poe ducked back behind cover and looked to the rest of the unit. <<Two troops left, then we're all on the menu here. Should we back track now and leave these poor kids to themselves, or risk fighting this thing!?>> Poe isn't risking another chance to peek out again.
David, hand to his blaster wound and weapon in the other, slowly backs away from the rancor. "We should let the First Order try and deal with the rancor." he calls. "We're here for that distress beacon. Did we even make contact?" David is either right on the money with that assessment or losing blood at an alarming rate. "Either way I vote for getting out of here while we're not on the menu just yet." He fires a few blasts at the white spots in his view, but staggers backwards too erratically for the shots to do much harm to anything but local plant life.
"We still have those refugees to find," Nova recalls. "Though if they're running into the kind of problems we have, they're probably compost by now." She opts to avoid shooting at the surviving Stormtroopers: After all, if the Rancor-thing is fighting them, it's not attacking herself and her fellow Resistance. "Most of the opposition's dead, anyway. We might have an easier time finding them from the air," she adds, hoping the blue-eyed Lieutenant Quish isn't too scared to listen just now.
BLAIR LASERMINE pops briefly out from behind the trunk of whatever tree-like bit of vegetation is sheltering him at the moment, peering down the sight of his rifle in direction of the First Order/Fauna chaos. "Agreed, we gotta verify the state of the civilians." He also holds his fire, no reason to thin out the Stormtroopers more when they were what was presently occupying the juvenile jungle murder machine.
"Roger that," Lt Quish says without hesitation. "Nexu, Nerf squads I want you to beat feet for the ship. Get her up and running and we can reconnect with the refugees from a safer...hover." She, however, is firmly rooted to her spot for a little longer than probably wise. Might also be the wound making decisions, slowing things down. So tired. "Pvt Dinkleberg...get those medpacs ready."
And speaking of Dinkleberg...he and several other Nexu members tasked with 'watching their six' have been coping with their own challenges. Chemical challenges, for the most part. Like what happens if you trip and fall into a patch of those Yerdue poison-spitters? Somebody's muffled screams cut in and out over the Comm while the good Pvt and his teammates wrestle the flailing, possibly blind comrade away toward safer ground.
As for the remaining trooper-and-a-half (the half isn't running anymore), they probably are too preoccupied with fighting for their lives to think about refugees, let alone carry out their Supreme Leader's missive by murdering civilians who dare speak word of the Force. The rancor's just building up steam, it'd seem, pouncings and snatching up the already wounded stormtrooper to chomp a sampling chunk from, then uses the rest like a bludgeoning tool on the lone survivor. The corpses of the Captain and others are ignored for now, but it's not long before its black and yellow eyes turn sharply upon the first of the retreating platoon. A terrifying shriek belts into the air, twice, thrice, and it slams the trooper body down IN to the earth before tipping forward and landing those heavyset hands into a position better suited for charging.
"RUN!!" Quish finds her legs again.
Poe slides his blaster away and starts for David, whom he knows is injured. Before he can reach the man though, Poe eats dirt and rolls down a narrow ditch. Growling, he pushes back up and begins to run again, turning only to see who was behind them. When he makes it to the ship, it isn't to the cockpit that he goes, it's to ensure their troops are getting on board. "Let's go! Get inside, move! MOVE! Do not stop, get aboard, let's go!" Poe is screaming that, waving his arms frantically for the trailing platoon to get on the kriffing shuttle. <<Dave, get this puppy prepped to go!>> "MOVE it people! Run!"
Somewhere in the distance, a clap of thunder rolls through the land.....
Except it isn't thunder. When it booms a second time, more loudly, the distinct, hiccuping ROAwrgarblebelch of a rancor's call is discerned. It sounds....big.
David runs to the shuttle, not looking back as he nods at Poe when he passes. "I got it." he replies, barrelling into the cockpit he starts flipping switches and pressing buttons. Before long, the repulsorlifts come online, raising the entry ramp up half a foot off the ground. "Ready to go when you are!" he calls with a wet cough afterwards. Shouting is clearly not a great idea right now. The thunder makes the pilot jump uneasily. When it strikes again, he knows for sure. "Mommy's very angry.." he mutters to anyone nearby.
"I think Dave's right. Run!" Nova echoes... and realizes that this thing will cover five times the ground they will at a stride. She draws a quick bead on the thing's right knee and fires one more time..!
To little appreciable effect. There's a nice new hole in its iron-hard hide in the right place, but it only looks /angrier/! Nova's green eyes widen. "Oops..." She whirls to run, barely evading a swipe of a huge set of claws. She escapes unscathed, but her armor doesn't: If she weren't last in line, everybody'd get a good look at the bright white, pink-striped briefs (definitely not Resistance-issue) showing where the seat of her pants and tunic tail used to be. She still gets back to the shuttle in the biggest hurry she can manage on terror-weakened legs! "Yeow! Get us out of here!"
Private Lasermine hobbles back toward the landing zone when the order to run is given. He's not making great time through the exotic landscape, but he is definitely moving. A backward glance is spared to see the results of Nova's shot that scores one of the young rancor's massive legs, and a tight smile is cracked through heavy breaths. "Nice shot, Corporal- oh drek!" he begins to commend, without breaking stride. Then the BIG roar booms out, and he mutters, "Running faster!"
For just a brief moment in sweet, sweet time, the rancor rears back. It FLINCHES, even, startled by the sudden pain in its knee, unsure of where it'd come from. But, all those little bodies are still running away, disappearing into the thick, fungi forest, and that just won't do. The young beast belts out two raucous calls back to its mother, then lunges at Nova and comes away with scraps of clothing. An inquisitive sniff is given before it gives chase, bulldozing through the jungle like a hungry tank.
Fortunately for the Resistance and disappointingly for the rancor, the soldiers do scramble/leap aboard just in time whilst Lt Quish yells "GO!!!! GO!!!" on her way up the ramp, having siezed hold of Poe's elbow. Either she's using him for support or trying to shove him in ahead of her. Either way, even LASERMINE manages to evade the furious tantrum barreling down on them.
Just barely.
The ship and its occupants will feel a serious KNOCK as it careens away and out of reach, but the rancor drops back to the ground and just crouches there, looking up making pity-poor-me noises at it like the toy that got away. They cruise away through the jungle, over the jungle, and can at least deliver /good/ news to the refugees, when they find them, IF they find them, that the First Order won't be banging down their door tonight.
OOC outtakes -----
(OOC)- Nova Korell aims to please. :)
(OOC)- Ektor says, "She aims to please, and at Rancor knees."
(OOC)- Nova Korell says, "And, failing to help one bit, quickly flees."
(OOC)- Ektor says, "With her knickers in the breeze."
(OOC)- Poe Dameron says, "All because the Rancor's ticked about not catching his Z's."
