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| - Lush tropical rainforest surrounds the city itself, edging ever inwards despite the determined efforts of the city denizens to keep the greenery from encroaching. Despite their best efforts, of course, flowers and vines bloom in every available nook and cranny, crease and crevice. A mere handful of steps outside of the city proper and one easily finds themselves wading through thick undergrowth, beset by swarms of insects and eyed by countless insect and animal eyes that would track such movements. The passage of the battle droids into the lush undergrowth is marked by broken foliage, chopped back vines and broad leaves, the droids one step away from beginning a slash and burn tactic to 'flush' their quarry from the underbrush. Eleven hours have passed since the sun had set over Tof Soren, the capital world of Ord Vaxal. When it had gone down, Enb'Zik had known Malign's droids would not halt their search simply for lack of light. He and Snarl had run from the site of their first attack until the Padawan's Force sense had stopped its buzz of danger. Then, they had paused just long enough to catch their breath, and just long enough for Enb'Zik to remove a pair of small thermal generators from his utility belt. Setting them to eminate approximately the same amount of heat given off by their bodies, Zik had concealed them inside a large hollow at the base of a truly massive tree. "I'm hoping," he begins, using the Force to channel oxygen into his lungs and slow his breathing, it will take them a bit of a hunt to find these. And while they look, we get out of here. They'll be expecting us to stop and make camp, I think." The Sullustan looks up at his wife and narrows his eyes in thought, "We're still just under thirty kilometers from the city. That would take most races a full day to cover. We're not likely to get any sleep tonight." The eleven hours had been the journey that followed that short discussion. It was a challenge to move both quickly and quietly, Snarl aided by her prowess on four legs and Enb'Zik aided by his growing abilities in the Force. Now, the two approach the forest's edge, approximately two kilometers remaining in their journey. Ahead, the sky is aglow with the buzz of the planetary capital, with dawn still two hours away. The Sullustan's danger sense is warning him again, and he pauses, hunkering on the forest floor and letting Snarl catch up the few meters that separate them. As Enb'Zik adjusts the thermal devices to set up the delaying decoy, Snarl sprawls in apparent laziness on her belly about fifteen feet above his head on a sturdy branch. "A shame that they will almost certainly destroy this tree," she rumbles quietly. "Its years have been many," she glances upward along the trunk before continuing, "And its residents numerous." Her only response to his comment about sleeplessness was a simple, "Will not be the first time." Having little trouble navigating the thick vegetation despite her size, Snarl is indeed not far behind Enb'Zik when he comes to a halt." Ears swiveling forward and whiskers bristling with an active nose, the massive feline pads up beside him with her head and shoulders held low. "What is it?" comes the barely audible question as she turns her head slowly to scan for any sound that seems out of place. The mind of a droid is a methodical thing. Linear in most aspects, but capable of making those leaps of associations that lead to the thought of artificial-intelligence. at what point does random programs, bytes of unexpected data, become the bitter motes of the soul? Perhaps not an argument best used around and-or applied to Sith battle droids. Let alone ones as tough as these. They move in even numbered groups, quartering and dividing the search area in measured segments, the search radius steadily widening around the city. Thus far they have located and retrieved several dozen citizens who thought to object to the change of administration. Or thought to hide out 'in the hills' until things settled again. Equipped with sensor equipment and telemetry, the droids link to a central unit to relay data, shared knowledge and processing power at it's best. The heat signatures the droids are tracking are, unfortunately for the droids, not unique in this jungle. For there are several large signatures that could be their quarry, or could be native animal life that would need to be dealt with. Unlike sentient hunters, the droids have no interest in pelts or animal trophies, but in their search parameters are the guidelines to scan for heat signatures and doing so they are, from sheer logic, moving steadily towards those heat sources. Enb'Zik is quiet for a moment in the wake of Snarl's question, looking with his eyes and reaching with his senses. He slowly shakes his head, "I'm not sure yet. But be alert." Having left those false signatures so far behind now, he realizes it's been awhile since they last paused for breath. He chooses to do so now, turning his eyes toward the city's glow again. He ponders a moment longer, then begins to describe the plan that's been forming in his mind as they've moved along. "Tof Soren is an old penal colony from Old Republic times. Pre-Empire. The whole city is built in layers, on bluffs. It's not easily penetrated, so I've been trying to figure out how we're going to get in. We're approaching from the west... there are some pretty steep bluffs straight ahead, and at the top of them, a district called Khorma. Or Khoma, depending on who you ask. On the other side of that, more bluffs, and then Old Soren." He glances aside at his wife, "Old Soren is where we have to get to. I think we can find storm drains to get us past the first set of bluffs. The second set... I'm not so sure about yet." Although listening to the Sullustan's explanation, Snarl's keen senses are still mostly directed to their surroundings in a constant scan for incoming threats. She nods a couple of times once he's finished, swallowing against a mild sore throat caused from prolonged heavy breathing. "Any chance of scaling it?" she asks, lifting one massive hand with five three inch claws splayed suggestively. Her first finger then shifts to indicate some thick vines that seem to be draped over a massive branch some thirty feet above their heads, "Or perhaps with 'rope'?" The faint buzz and whine of speeders can barely be heard through the canopy, through the murmur of animal sounds and the constant rustling of greenery in the so subtle wind. The air is heavy with moisture, heavy with humidity that would make most humans sweat and think - longingly - of cooler environments. Droids, however, are relatively impervious to the variance of climate extremes, to a point that is. Above the canopy, several groups of speeders are piloted by droids that search the canopy for any telltale signs of disturbance and passage. The hole in the canopy that was created by the landing of the vehicle that was 'allowed' planet-side was marked and a team is en route to do a thorough search of the crash site. The things that are left behind leave clues, as well as any potential tracks that might have been left. The droids are no slouches when it comes to tracking, even if they lack instinct, theres enough programmed into them that they do a more than adequate job. Still, the droids on foot continue their approach towards the heat sources they are tracking.
* Commute (continued) - The adventure continues in the second half of this scene log.
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